


'Nam

by phoenixnz



Category: Smallville
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-19
Updated: 2018-03-27
Packaged: 2019-02-04 06:25:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 29,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12765045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phoenixnz/pseuds/phoenixnz
Summary: Clark is a marine in Vietnam when his unit is given a special assignment. The only problem is, a photo-journalist wants to tag along. Clark is torn between completing the mission and keeping Lois Lane out of harm's way.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Symphony_of_the_Damned (SymphonyWizard)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SymphonyWizard/gifts), [BigRed67](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BigRed67/gifts), [rach320](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rach320/gifts), [thekiller00](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thekiller00/gifts).



> Mentions of past Chloe/Clark. Rating may change.

“Hey, FNG!”

Clark Kent turned and looked at the man beside him. His face was black with whatever they used in an attempt to camouflage themselves under the harsh sun in what was known as the Iron Triangle. Their small band of marines had been sent on a search and destroy mission but so far the results had been nothing but a cluster fuck. 

At eighteen, Clark was the new guy. He’d joined up shortly after he’d graduated high school and despite his parents’ protests that he was needed on the farm, he’d decided to become a marine. So many of his friends had been drafted and he had wanted a choice of duty. 

“Yo, new guy, stop your dreaming and get your cherry ass over here.”

Clark looked at the second man who’d spoken. He was blond-headed with rangy good looks. A few years older than most of their fellow marines, he was now on his second tour. 

Carefully, Clark made his way through the muddy water known as the Mekong. Lord only knew what kind of creatures lay beneath the surface. He wasn’t about to use x-ray vision to find out. 

“What up, L T?”

“What’s up is I gotta look out for your cherry ass, kid. As fine an ass as it may be, I’d rather stick my dick in something a little softer, get my drift?”

Bite my cherry ass, was what he wanted to say. Instead, he settled for nodding his head. “Yes sir.” 

The language was something Clark had had to get used to in his few weeks doing basic training before he’d landed at Da Nang just two weeks earlier. He’d been raised on a farm in the mid-west, known as the Bible Belt of America and he wasn’t accustomed to being around men who cussed as much as marines did. His father would probably understand, since he’d fought in WW Two, but his mother would be shocked. Hell, she’d probably threaten to wash his mouth out. 

Still, if you didn’t yell and curse like the other marines you were considered a pussy. 

Lieutenant Oliver Queen smirked at him then ordered the men to spread out and try to flush out the enemy. The VC were agile and cunning little buggers, the L T had told his men. Then again, this was their country so Clark figured they knew all the little hidey-holes. 

It would be so much easier if Clark could use his own abilities, but he didn’t want to get caught. God knew, the men would probably want to stick him in the stockade or something. 

As far as he knew, Clark had been born on a planet thousands of light years away. He had no idea what it was called and why he had landed on Earth, since he’d only been a toddler when that had happened. He’d been found by farmers, Jonathan and Martha Kent, whose truck had fallen into the crater which had been formed when his ship had crashed in the field in Smallville fifteen or so years earlier. 

As he’d grown, Clark had discovered unique abilities. First had been the strength to handle anything ten times heavier than he was, then he’d learned he could run incredibly fast. After that, the development of his powers had happened slowly, most of them occurring through his adolescence. 

Clark’s father, Jonathan, had taken him aside on his last furlough and told him not to use his abilities if he could help it, but this was a different kind of war to the one his father had fought. He reasoned that he could at least help a little so none of the men on his watch would go home in a coffin. 

As he debated it in his head, his hearing picked up the sound of guns cocking and voices speaking in the language he often heard in these parts. He turned his head and squinted in the direction of the sound, picking up the silhouettes of several men in the semi-darkness. 

“L T, Charlie. Maybe half a click that way,” he said in a loud whisper.

Oliver looked at him, eyebrows raised. He lifted his piece, one hand on the foregrip. He didn’t question how Clark knew but ordered the men to take positions and fire on the enemy. The air filled with a cacophony of sound, from the harsh spit of the bullets as they were exchanged to the cries of the Viet-Cong soldiers as they were hit.

Clark tried not to wince at the waste of life. He’d been brought up to respect life but had known that he couldn’t avoid having to fire on the enemy as a marine. It was either that or having to explain how he’d somehow managed to survive a rain of bullets himself. 

The firefight was surprisingly brief. His lieutenant turned and stared at him once it was over. 

“Damn, Kansas. How the fuck did you know they were there?”

“Uh, something just told me, L T.”

“Well, don’t that beat all. Guess we have to give you a new name, kid. Sure as hell was a lucky day when you got off that slick.”

Clark remembered that day. He had just landed when the VC had fired on the helicopter. The pilot hadn’t even had a chance to take off when he was hit by machine gun fire. Two other marines who were supposed to have joined the battalion with Clark had also been killed. Clark, of course, had been able to jump off the chopper and avoid getting hit himself. His lieutenant had claimed he must have been born under a lucky star or something. 

Charlie seemed to have decided to call it a night as Clark heard no more voices that night. The men slept in turns. One or two would stay awake and keep watch over the others. When it was Clark’s turn, the cloud which had been threatening overhead finally cleared and he looked up at a clear sky. He studied the stars, remembering many a summer night lying in the fields at the farm with his then-girlfriend Chloe, wondering which one was his. 

He’d told her the truth about himself a week before he’d shipped out. Chloe had taken it with her usual aplomb. She’d always known there was something different about him but hadn’t cared what it was. 

He smiled as he remembered the first day they’d met. Chloe had transferred in to Smallville Elementary, where they were both eighth graders. Her father had gotten a job at the local plant, managing a small division. The plant was owned by Luthorcorp, a big city corporation. His dad often said that the corporation’s owner, Lionel Luthor, was a ruthless businessman and a lousy human being. He never elaborated on why he thought that but Clark had done a little digging, with Chloe’s help, and found that his dad and Lionel had served in the same regiment in WW Two. He figured something Lionel had done while they’d served together had been the cause of his dad’s distrust of the other man. 

Clark hadn’t held the fact that Chloe’s dad worked for Luthorcorp against her. Hell, he knew it was sometimes hard out there to get a good job and people took what they could get. Not that Gabe Sullivan was in a bad job. He was paid good money, or so Chloe had told him.

Chloe’s mom had left when she was eight. Well, she’d also left for a bit when Chloe was five. She had told him one day she had gone downstairs to find her father trying to cook pancakes. Badly. He’d tried to explain that her mom had just needed a break for a while. Fortunately, the break had only lasted a couple of months. 

Clark had no idea what had happened to make her mom leave a second time. Chloe’s father never talked about his wife. He guessed that Gabe was just trying to make things easier for Chloe, who tried to be philosophical about it. 

The day they’d met, Clark had been assigned the duty of showing the new girl around school. Chloe had asked him all sorts of questions, which to anyone else would have been irritating. Clark just found it kind of cute. When she’d learned that he lived on a farm, she had begged him to let her go home with him that afternoon. 

“Hey, Cherry. What you smilin’ about?”

Clark turned his head and looked at the other marine. Arthur Curry was a year or two older than him. For some odd reason, he preferred being in the water than on dry land and spent as much time in the Delta as he could. He hated the heat but he loved it when the rains came down, or so he had told Clark on their first night. 

“Just thinking about a girl back home.”

“She a honey?”

“Oh yeah. She’s real cute. We dated through high school.”

“But not now?”

He shook his head. They’d broken up fairly amicably shortly before graduation. Chloe cared about him, but she had what she liked to call itchy feet. She wanted to see what else was out there for her and didn’t want a boyfriend tying her down. 

“How’d ya meet her?”

“Eighth grade,” he said. “She came home with me to the farm. I guess she thought I was Amish or something as she said it wasn’t quite like she pictured. Anyway, we were just talking in the barn and she kissed me. She said: ‘I know you’ve been thinking about it for a while and I figured we’d just get it over with and be friends’.”

“What’s her name?”

“Chloe. Anyway, we hung out for a couple of years and then she asked me to the Sadie Hawkins dance and we started going out.”

“What’s she doing now? She single?”

“She decided to go to Europe. With her cousin, or something. Guess she wanted to find herself.”

“Damn shame. I got me a girl back home. Mera. We were gonna get hitched before I joined up but I figure when my tour’s over we’ll do it then.”

“How long you got, AC?”

The other man shrugged. “About six months, I guess. Give or take.” 

There was the sound of a Zippo being flicked and a small flame flashed in the darkness.

“You girls gonna chatter all night, cause some of us would like to get some shut-eye.”

Oliver looked at them, smoking a cigarette. Clark didn’t smoke, but his father had all through his tour. He’d told a story about getting off the boat and being handed a pack of cigarettes. The men would smoke as some kind of camaraderie. Jonathan had explained that it helped to escape the horror of what they faced every day on the battlefield. Clark didn’t see how but whatever.

Clark remembered in boot camp one of his superior officers had told the recruits to ‘smoke ‘em if you got ‘em, pushups if you don’t’. Since Clark had never smoked and didn’t want to, he had been forced to do pushups. He didn’t really mind. 

The acrid smell of the cigarette smoke reached his nose. Clark had never thought he had enhanced olfactory senses, but he guessed he did. He’d only been in Vietnam a couple of weeks, but he’d smelled enough horrible odours to last a lifetime. He couldn’t say for sure what they were, but some often reminded him of the smell that came from an animal on the farm that had died and been left for the vultures.

No matter how much they tried to keep the wild animals, like coyotes, out, one would come along and attack the cattle, leaving a corpse to bake in the hot summer sun. The stench could reach them all the way to the farmhouse if the wind was right. 

Clark couldn’t see that well in the darkness but it felt almost as if the lieutenant’s eyes were on him. He had heard that Queen was a rich kid whose parents had died when he was young, leaving him an orphan. One of the men had told him that the lieutenant was on his second tour, although why anyone would volunteer for another tour of the hellhole they were in, Clark didn’t know. He guessed Queen thought he didn’t have anything to go home to, so he might just as well be here.

Clark chose to ignore his lieutenant, who settled down after smoking his cigarette, using a pack for a pillow. AC grunted something and shifted, then slapped the side of his neck. 

“Mosquitoes,” he said. “Damn things. Why don’t they ever touch you?”

Because they can’t get through my skin, he wanted to say, but didn’t. 

He’d been warned in training that a lot of marines, and some of the army soldiers as well, ended up sick with all sorts of diseases. Dysentery was the main one. Then there was malaria and typhoid. Given the conditions they were in, it was no surprise. He’d long ago realised his skin was invulnerable to even things like needles, so biting insects didn’t have a shot. 

Two others took over guard duty, allowing Clark and AC to catch a few Zzzs before the sun would wake them. Orders came a short while later. They would have to walk back to the pick-up point in order to head back to base as soon as the sun rose. 

Clark, as the newbie, took point in the five-mile hike upriver. The men were already bitching about the heat and the humidity, their uniforms stained with sweat and whatever else was in the muck beneath the surface of the river. One of the men, a dark-skinned man who reminded him a little of a kid he had known back home, looked back at him.

“Damn, Kansas. You ain’t even breakin’ a sweat.”

“Guess I just don’t feel the heat like you guys,” he said. 

“Must be cold-blooded. You cold-blooded Cherry?”

“Cut the chatter,” Queen called. “Kid, you hear any more of Charlie?”

“No, sir,” he called back. “Guess Charlie’s taken an early siesta.”

“Yeah, and maybe Charlie got a good look at your ugly face, L T,” AC called out. 

“Ahh, your mother, AC.”

The men were obviously in good spirits even as their feet blistered from the leather boots rubbing against their skin and their bodies were covered in bites from various insects. 

The helicopter was waiting for them at the pick-up. They all squeezed in, their weapons close to them at all times. Clark had been told by his trainer that the enemy often tried to shoot at the men in the aircraft. Sometimes they got lucky. 

As they closed in on base, one of the men grabbed a pair of binoculars and began searching the river banks. 

“Yo,” he said, pointing. “Round eyes.”

“Where?” Queen asked, snatching the binoculars. A slow smile crept over his face as he caught sight of what the other man was pointing at. “Gentlemen, we got ourselves a guest,” he announced. 

The bird touched down and the men quickly began to tidy themselves up, trying to look presentable in front of the woman. Clark watched her as she talked to their C.O. She had long dark hair tied up in a ponytail. She was tall, or taller than Chloe at least, and pretty. 

She looked familiar. As Clark got closer, he realised he knew her. Or knew of her, at least. Chloe had a photograph of herself with the woman when they had both been younger. 

Lois Lane. Chloe’s cousin.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lois meets Clark

Lois Lane tried not to act annoyed as the colonel chattered away next to her. Something about an injury he’d sustained on his first tour. He made it sound like he’d been at death’s door but from what she could figure, it had been nothing more than a scratch. Yet he was complaining about an enlisted man who had been hit in the buttocks and sent to the best army hospital to be treated.

Lois was tall with an athletic rather than curvy figure. She had a square, pretty face framed by long, chocolate brown hair which she usually tied up in a loose ponytail. She wore khaki shorts and a shirt in the same colour with most of the buttons undone, exposing a white singlet top underneath. Just nineteen, she had been hit on by practically every enlisted man in the week she’d been in Vietnam.

She’d taken a jeep from Saigon to the camp to do a photo essay on the men out here, but other than the men on base, she had yet to see any who had seen some action. 

She lit a cigarette, letting the butt sit in her mouth as she fiddled with the camera in her hand. Smoke curled up and drifted over her face, making her squint her eyes. She probably shouldn’t be smoking. Hell, the General would have a fit if he knew.

It was bad enough that he had been against the whole idea of her coming to Vietnam. 

“You’re barely nineteen, Lo,” he’d told her.

“And there are lots of guys way younger than me signing up to fight. I’m going.”

She knew that her father knew she would have gone with or without his approval. She also knew that he was well aware she was perfectly capable of taking care of herself. Hell, she’d been doing that since she was six, the year her mother died. At that age, she’d also been responsible for her four-year-old sister. 

It had been harder still convincing the editor of the Daily Planet to let her take the job as a War Correspondent, but she’d had two summers’ worth of experience writing for the army rag behind her. Trying to find something to keep her out of trouble, General Sam Lane had got her a job on Fort Ryan’s answer to the Stars and Stripes newspaper. Lois had taken to journalism like a duck to water. She’d spent a year as a cub reporter at the Daily Planet instead of going off to the local women’s college like some of her peers. 

Lois was not what she would consider a ‘girly-girl’. She preferred wearing plain and practical outfits rather than frills. When she had first got the job at the Daily Planet, she had found she had to work twice as hard as the men to be taken seriously. If she’d worn dresses or other flashy outfits, she would have had no chance. As it was, when the assignment to Vietnam had come up, she was just as tough and in some ways even tougher than the men.

She lifted the camera to check the film and peered through the viewfinder as she focused the lens. A chopper appeared in the distance, slowly growing closer. She looked up. There were about a dozen men crammed in the back of the chopper, all looking as if they had spent days in the swamp which passed for a river in these parts.

She knew how bad conditions could get. She’d heard all the horror stories from her father, who had joined up at the tail end of World War Two and then served in Korea. He’d often spoken of the men who had become extremely ill with cases of dysentery, or malaria. Not even the meds they were given had helped. 

She continued to use her camera to look over the men as the bird approached. It was obvious they had spotted her as about half of them craned their necks to stare back at her. The chopper landed, blowing tufts of grass in every direction. The men jumped out, looking as if they were about to head her way when a tall man with blond hair put an arm out to block them. 

Lois watched as the man, probably their lieutenant, began some kind of roll call. Every one of them tried to look past him to once more stare at her. He turned, smirking as he glanced her way before turning back to the men and yelling something at them. 

All but the lieutenant and a dark-haired man turned and headed for the showers. The C.O. nodded his head in the blond man’s direction and the lieutenant approached his commanding officer. The two began to talk while the other man hung back. 

Lois shielded her eyes from the sun and frowned at him. She was used to men staring at her but he had an odd sort of smile on his face. She stood up, a little miffed to discover that even standing he towered over her. 

“You want something?” she asked.

“Lois Lane,” he said.

“We know each other?” she said tersely. 

“No. But I know you. Chloe’s cousin.”

Her frown deepened. Her cousin had asked her to go to Europe with her. The plan had been to meet up with her sister Lucy and spend about a month travelling around. Then the job had come up and she had seized at the chance, hoping she would one day win a Pulitzer. The editor would have to take her seriously then. 

She narrowed her eyes at the man. He couldn’t be more than eighteen if he knew her cousin, but looks were deceiving. 

“How do you know my cousin?” she asked, immediately wary.

“We dated in high school. I thought she was in Europe. She said she was going to meet her cousin there and they were going travelling.”

“She did. My sister Lucy. So you’re Clark Kent. She told me all about you.”

“Not everything, I hope,” he said.

She frowned at him, not quite understanding the reference. Chloe had told her Clark was brought up on a farm in the small town where they lived. Everything her cousin had told her about Smallville had sounded kind of hokey but the man in front of her didn’t seem hokey at all. In fact, he was kind of cute. 

The lieutenant finished his report to his C.O. and called Kent over. He nodded his head toward the showers. The dark-haired man sent her one final look before turning to go. The blond approached her.

“Guessing you’re the stringer they warned me about,” he said. “Kinda young, ain’t ya?”

“I can hold my own,” she said. He looked her over, his expression more of disdain than interest. He was a good-looking man although a little worse for wear with the rough stubble covering his jaw. He appeared to be a man who rarely smiled. 

“Yeah, bet you can. Look, whatever you’re here for, don’t get in my boys’ heads, alright? They got enough going on without a pair of tits distracting ‘em.”

Lois bristled at the thinly-veiled insult. She stood at her full height and glared him full in the eyes. Pretty brown eyes, she thought. But not so pretty as green. 

“Listen, bub, I am a reporter.”

“Yeah? Who’d you have to screw to con this out of? Listen, I don’t care if you’re Mata fuckin’ Hari. This ain’t no good time. You got guns going off day and night and we got better things to do than babysit some little girl who thinks she can play with the big boys.”

She hissed. “I came here for a story and by God I’m gonna get one. With or without your help.”

“S’long as that’s all you’re here for,” he said with a scowl. “Don’t go complicating issues with a round of boom-boom. Or three. Got me?”

He stalked off without waiting for an answer, leaving her to glare at his back. She really resented the implication that the only thing she was good for was sex. Or that the only reason she was there in the first place was as some kind of sightseeing trip. She knew damn well what went on in this place, since she’d been well-briefed. She also knew that a lot of what she was intending to write probably wouldn’t even make it past the censors. 

Having been raised an army brat, she knew the brass wanted to keep the dirtier side of war quiet. Hell, a lot of the posters back home calling for recruits tried to sell it as some big-time adventure. 

The truth was, it was as dirty as they come. It was death and destruction and innocent kids being led to the slaughter. That was the story Lois wanted to tell and knew she would never get the chance. 

Colonel Munro looked at her and shrugged before walking off toward some kind of hut, leaving her to her own devices. She figured she might as well get some shots off while she could and began wandering around the camp. Some of the men had wandered off to change clothes in their quarters. 

She had been given her own quarters in camp, a small, ramshackle hut that looked like it would blow over in a good wind. It appeared to be used as storage for some of the camp’s dry food as there were packing crates on the far wall. A narrow cot lay on the other side. 

Lois sighed and grabbed a dirty shirt to wipe under her arms. The humidity had already caused sweat to soak through her clothing She rummaged through her duffel bag to find something clean to put on. 

She stripped off her shirts and began to unsnap her bra when she saw something moving in the corner of her hut. Lois was scared of few things but she had been bitten by a copperhead snake when she was younger and had almost died. Her editor had advised her not to panic in these situations but the thought it might be a snake had her breaking out in a cold sweat. 

The thing moved and she let out a scream. It wasn’t a loud scream by any means but within seconds her door crashed against the wall. 

“What is it?”

She whirled, startled by Kent’s sudden entry. 

“Over there,” she said, pointing to the corner. “I saw something move.”

He quickly stepped over the crates. Lois stared as his arm moved quick-as-a-flash. He raised it, holding a squirming snake by the neck. It was probably only a baby as it was less than a foot long but she remained right where she was. 

“It’s a viper,” he said. “Only a young one though. It was probably trying to get something to eat.”

Lois noticed she was trembling as he stood in the doorway and did something before turning back to look at her.

“You okay?” he asked.

He was wearing a tight black shirt with the sleeves cut off. The shirt showed the outline of his muscular torso. She stared, letting her gaze travel down his body to take in the shorts which fit tightly to his butt and showed a very impressive bulge in front. She had heard that marines didn’t wear underwear underneath their shorts as it was supposed to impress the Vietnamese prostitutes who hung around the camps, or the Red Cross girls. 

Kent was staring back, his expression showing appreciation of her form. Lois realised she had just been in the middle of taking her bra off when she saw the snake. 

She scowled at him. “This ain’t no peepshow!” she growled, grabbing the door and pushing him outside before slamming it closed.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clark's night at the Officer's Club.

Clark grumbled as he walked to the Officer’s Club. At least, what passed for one. It was barely more than a large ramshackle hut with straw for a roof. Officially the enlisted men weren’t supposed to be allowed inside but no one cared. Not even the C.O. 

Several marine units and a few army ones frequented the bar when they were not out on missions. Each unit tended to stick together although Clark had already met a couple of army guys on his first night on base. One of them had been very friendly, if a little dim. He spoke with an accent which Clark figured was from the deep South somewhere. The other man had pretty much confirmed it when he’d announced he was from Greenbow, Alabama. 

He’d been nice enough but he did like to talk a lot about his Momma back in Alabama and his ‘best good friend’ Bubba. Clark had politely extricated himself from the group before the other man could ask him to give his own life story.

When he entered the bar, the room was already smoky and loud music was playing from a radio. Clark saw some of the men in his unit already getting drunk. There were several empty bottles on a table which they’d set up to play cards. 

He went up to the bar and nodded at the Vietnamese man. 

“You want beer?” the man asked.

Goodness only knew where the man had got his idea of American culture from but he was wearing what passed for a Hawaiian shirt. It was colourful – almost garish. 

Clark took his beer and sat in the corner, doing his best to stay unnoticed. He was a little annoyed at Lois. He’d saved her from the snake – okay, it had been a baby – but she could have at least said ‘thank you’, he thought. What a bitch! 

Speak of the devil! She walked in like she owned the place. All the men turned to leer at her, eyeing the woman dressed in shorts and an army regulation tank top. She ordered herself a drink at the bar and sat on one of the stools, lighting a cigarette. 

Clark chose to ignore her, turning to watch some of the men down the other end of the bar. One of the Vietnamese girls was sitting on A.C’s back while the marine was showing off by doing push-ups. A few of the others in the unit were passing around money. It looked like they were taking bets to see how long A.C could last. 

“Brooding, Smallville?”

He looked up and rolled his eyes. Obviously Chloe had told her cousin exactly where he was from. “Something you want, Lane?” he asked. 

“I realised I should have thanked you earlier, but if that’s gonna be your attitude then forget it.” She turned away, looking as if she was just going to walk away, then stopped. “You wanna know something, Kent? I can’t believe Chloe would ever date a Neanderthal like you.”

“Yeah? Well, know what I can’t believe? I can’t believe a girl like Chloe is related to someone as rude, annoying and as stuck-up as you!”

“You calling me stuck-up?” she asked, glaring at him.

“Just callin’ it like I see it.”

She rolled her eyes at him. “Whatever! And here Chloe told me you were kind of sweet. Guess she got her wires crossed.”

He ignored her and sipped his beer. He hadn’t liked the taste of it the first time he’d tried it but he was slowly getting used to it. 

All his life he’d tried to fit in with everyone else, despite the fact that he wasn’t normal. He’d played the same games, always conscious of the warnings his parents had given him about his abilities. He was stronger and faster than other kids and needed to be careful, especially when playing sports like football.

It was one of the reasons he’d begun drinking along with the rest of his unit. He’d very quickly learned that most of the men got drunk not because it was fun but to forget the horrors they’d already seen. 

Lois grabbed a chair and turned it around so she could sit with her torso facing the back. As she leaned forward to put her beer on the table, she thrust her chest forward, giving him a good view of cleavage.

Clark fidgeted. He liked a good pair of tits like any other male with eyes and Lois definitely had it going on. He’d liked Chloe’s as well. She was just the perfect size for him to get a good handful. Not that they’d gone any further than second base. Technically. His former girlfriend had given him a handjob and he’d returned the favour, making her come with just his hand. Chloe had remarked on the size of his hands, even asking aloud if his hand would actually fit. 

He looked up to find Lois smirking at him and he realised she had done it deliberately. He’d got a good enough show earlier and despite his embarrassment at being caught like a peeping Tom, his dick had been plenty interested. Maybe she wasn’t beautiful, not like the girl in the magazine one of the men he’d been training with had shown him, but she was cute. 

No, he thought. Chloe was cute. With her flippy hairstyles and her toothy smile. Lois was …

“So, Smallville, what brings you to his piece of Paradise?”

“I enlisted,” he said tersely. 

His parents had just about freaked when he had told them he’d signed up for the Marines. A girl he had gone to high school with had been dating a guy who had signed up as soon as he’d graduated. Lana had heard about a year later that Whitney had been listed as M.I.A. 

It wasn’t just the fact that he was risking being killed or taken prisoner. They’d worried about the tests he’d have to take once he signed up. His father had told him he would probably have to have various medical tests. If that occurred, Jonathan had told him, he could very well end up in a lab instead of being sent to ‘Nam.

Clark had managed to avoid blood tests and injections by telling the doctors he had a phobia about needles. They’d given him anti-malaria pills instead. It seemed that the recruiting officers cared more about their quota than whether the recruits were healthy and most of those who had joined had got out of the tests as well. 

“That doesn’t answer my question, Farmboy.”

“I ain’t no story!” he told her. 

She lit a cigarette and blew smoke in his face. He coughed. 

“Who said I’m writing about you?” she replied. “Maybe I’m just interested in why you decided to leave Podunk and come all the way over here where you’ll probably go home in a body bag.”

“Says you! Maybe I’ll get lucky.”

“Luck? Ain’t no such thing,” she said, shaking her head. 

She turned at the sound of laughter. A.C had finally given up, collapsing on top of the bar. Lois smirked. 

“Bet you couldn’t last that long,” she said.

“I’m stronger than I look,” Clark told her.

“Yeah? How about you put your money where your mouth is?”

He was about to refuse but she turned and shouted at the other men, pointing at him. 

“Farmboy here says he can beat that,” she told them. 

“Yeah?” Oliver grinned. “How much you wanna bet, little girl?”

She narrowed her eyes at the blond marine, clearly not liking being called ‘little girl’. “Fifty. I’ll bet you fifty that he lasts longer.” 

Oliver whistled. Fifty bucks was a lot of money. 

“But not her,” she added, pointing to the Vietnamese girl. 

Clark frowned at Lois, wondering what she was planning. She looked at him. 

“Well, come on, Smallville? Or are you chicken?”

He glared at her. If there was one thing he was not, it was chicken. Suppressing the urge to roll his eyes, he mounted the bar and got in a good position to do push-ups. He wanted to tell Oliver he was wasting his money, but the men were already taking bets.

He supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised that Lois was the one who sat on his back. She was a little heavier than the Vietnamese girl, who was small and skinny. Lois had at least eight inches on the girl and probably about twenty pounds. Not that she was fat.

The lieutenant tapped on the bar. “Well, get moving marine!”

Clark lifted himself up, pretending it was an effort for him. He didn’t want to make it look too easy in case someone took notice. Not that he had wanted to take part in the stupid competition to begin with, but Lois had called him a chicken and he had to do it. At least on principle. 

Oliver began counting each push-up while Lois murmured words of encouragement. Well, he supposed it was encouragement. It was mostly, “c’mon farmboy. What’d you do on that farm? Bake brownies? Put your back into it.”

He added some grunts and groans for good measure, keeping to a steady pace, tuning out the shouts of the men as they became more and more excited by the competition. He lost count of how many he’d done but heard the occasional exclamation and figured he had already gone well past A.C’s count. 

“Geezus, look at the kid go! Must be all that baling hay.”

Clark pretended to tire and collapsed to the bar. Lois hopped off and began collecting all the money she’d won. Oliver growled, sounding pissed. 

“Goddamnit!” he said. 

“Next round is on me,” she said, waving the wad of bills gleefully before handing a couple of them to the Vietnamese bartender. She turned and looked at Clark as he slid off the bar and sat on a stool, wiping his still-dry forehead with the back of his hand.

“Nice to know those muscles ain’t just there for decoration!” she told him with a wink. She walked away, swinging her hips in almost an exaggerated motion. Every man in the bar turned to watch her leave. 

Oliver sat beside Clark. “Don’t even think about it, kid,” he said. “That girl ain’t nothing but trouble.”

Don’t I know it, he thought with a quiet groan. Don’t I know it!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a little bit of a meeting with a famous character. I'm sure you can figure it out. 
> 
> Clark might seem a little OOC but I wanted to set up the mutual antagonism between Clark and Lois.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lois thinks about Clark Kent

Lois had rather enjoyed the game with the kid from Podunk. He might be green but hell, he had some body. Her cousin had sure as shooting been keeping a lot of things back from her. Especially just how good-looking her ex-boyfriend was. Not that she was going to tell him that. She wouldn’t want his head to swell.

She’d been curious about the boy her cousin had been dating. Chloe didn’t often wax poetic about the boys in her high school. Considering most of them lived on farms, she doubted they were anything spectacular to look at. Now, Smallville, on the other hand. There was no way he was just an ordinary farmer’s kid. Not with his looks. Those muscles, though, she thought. 

So maybe Chloe’s taste in boyfriends wasn’t as bad as she had initially thought. When she’d first begun talking about the farmboy she had made it sound like he was the Second Coming. Ha! Didn’t that put some dirty images in her head? The things that boy could do with his hands, was how her cousin had put it. 

The last letter she had got from Chloe was right before her cousin had left for Europe. Clark had been mentioned but only in the news that she’d broken up with the farmboy after they’d been dating about two years. The only reason she had given was that she had wanted to see what else was out there. 

It wasn’t that she didn’t love Clark, Chloe had said, but she’d realised that it wasn’t the kind of love that lasts a lifetime. It wasn’t romantic love. 

Lois snorted at the memory. She didn’t believe in love. She could barely remember a time when her parents had shown that kind of affection for each other. Then again, her mother had passed when she was six, so she supposed that was something she wouldn’t have seen very often. 

She could leave Chloe to her notions of love and romance. Lois was more interested in becoming the best reporter at the Daily Planet. Competing against the men who still treated her like a little girl, at best and a sex object at worst, didn’t leave her time for anything like dating. 

That wasn’t to say she couldn’t have fun while she was here, she thought. Judging from the way Kent had kept looking at her, he was interested. 

She returned to her hut and stripped everything but her panties off, grabbing a tan-coloured tank top and putting it on. She grimaced. The regulation clothes they’d told her to wear were ugly as hell and barely covered anything but they’d also told her they’d help her ‘blend in’ to the jungle surrounds. 

She’d just finished dressing when there was a rapping sound on the doorframe. She pushed on the straw which passed for the main part of the door and scowled. Lieutenant Queen stood glaring at her, a cigarette in his mouth, smoke curling up from the end. 

“What do you want?” she asked crossly. A tiny part of her had hoped her late night visitor would be Kent. 

“You know, I knew you were trouble the moment I laid my peepers on you.”

“Is that so?” she accused. 

“Yeah!” He took the cigarette out of his mouth and spat on the ground. He held the smoke between his thumb and forefinger, pointing it at her. “I told you this earlier, we ain’t got time for this, little girl.”

“Don’t call me ‘little girl!’” she said with a snarl. 

“I told ya, don’t fuck with my boys! Especially Kent. The kid’s green and I’m bettin’ he ain’t never been around a piece of hot ass before. He sure as hell don’t need the distraction.”

She smirked at him. “Well, as it turns out, he used to date my cousin. I was just getting to know the kid who thought he was good enough for her.”

“Girlie, you got no business being here! And I ain’t telling you again. Stay away from Kent!”

She stared at him. One of the first things she’d been taught by her editor in the army rag was to read between the lines. The lieutenant had another reason for telling her to stay away from the boys in his unit. Kent in particular.

“What’s going on, Lieutenant? You guys on some kind of mission, or something? What do you need Kent for?”

Her curiosity was piqued as he shut up like a clam. He scowled at her but refused to say anything further before turning and walking away. 

Hmm, she thought. This definitely needed more investigation. There was nothing more she could do about it tonight, she decided, bunking down for the night. 

She’d been given a lot of information before coming to Vietnam and knew that there was more to worry about in camps than insects that buzzed in her ear all night, or the cloying humidity that left her wringing wet. Snipers, or even sappers – enemy soldiers trained in the use of explosives - could strike at any time. While they had guards who were assigned to patrol while the rest of the camp slept, every man had to be ready to be up and out at a moment’s notice. 

Knowing that didn’t make it any easier for her to sleep and she spent most of the night sleeping lightly or lying on her back staring at the ceiling of the hut thinking about home.

Her father had often told her how difficult military life could be. She understood now why he had trouble sleeping, even when he was assigned to a home base. He’d spent his share of time in foxholes, gun at the ready, always on the alert in case the enemy struck. 

When she was little, her father had been sent to Korea. Her mother hadn’t wanted him to go, but it was the job. He’d spent two years fighting with a platoon a few miles south of Panmunjom. After those two years, he was re-assigned to a base in Oakland.

Lois had quickly become accustomed to moving around every eighteen months or so. When war had been declared in Vietnam, she had expected the general would have been assigned to Saigon. Instead he had been sent to a training facility in Kansas to oversee the preparation of all the new recruits. 

He had been vehemently opposed to her going to Vietnam, but she hadn’t cared, using everything she had at her disposal to convince him to let her go. Her mother would have said she was every inch her father’s daughter. 

She’d once overheard her father talking to someone who had asked him if he wished he had sons instead of daughters. She hadn’t stuck around to hear his reply but figured he would have agreed anyway. Sons would probably have been easier to command once her mother had died. God knew, she’d given him enough grey hairs. 

She rolled over on her side, her thoughts returning to her assignment.

She still resented the lieutenant’s words. Sure, Kent was good-looking and all but she hadn’t come here to pick up men. Besides, even if Chloe had broken up with him, Lois was well aware of the code. They’d always been as close as sisters, and sisters didn’t sleep with their sibling’s ex, no matter how cute they were. 

She was determined to show that lieutenant that she really was here for a story on the war. It was clear he resented her presence.

Luckily he seemed like a fairly decent kind of guy, even if his temper was a bit short. Even if he talked down to her like she was five years old instead of a grown woman. She figured he hadn’t had a lot of female influence in his life or else he wouldn’t have talked to her that way. Either that or he was used to women who were subordinate to him in some way. 

She made a mental note to find out more about the lieutenant. She figured if she could study him a little more, she might be able to learn what made him tick. 

Just maybe, if she could get him to trust her, he might confide in her about this mission. Imagine the accolades she could win back home if she scored the story of the century. Even a Pulitzer. She’d be the next Hightower, or Hearst.

She fell asleep dreaming of walking up an aisle to collect her award, the eyes of every man in the room upon her, envious of her win.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver calls the boys in to tell them they have a new mission.

Clark joined his fellow marines in what was loosely termed the mess. It was little more than another of the ramshackle huts the locals used. The base itself had been a village at one point but with most of the Vietnamese men – those who could still walk, at least – sent off to fight in the war, those remaining had been forced to allow the American military brass to use it to house their own units. What did they care if people were tossed out of their homes, such as they were?

Breakfast was unappetising, as usual. Powdered eggs, rice which was usually infested with any number of insects and some kind of bread produced locally. 

AC made a face as he stared at his tray. “Ugh, is it me or is it worse than usual?”

“No, it’s worse than usual,” Oliver replied. He dug a spoon in some kind of greyish substance that Clark guessed was supposed to be oatmeal. It slopped off the spoon, resembling the sludge they found in the river. His stomach roiled. 

The lieutenant quickly gave up on breakfast, drinking his black coffee with loud slurps. 

“Listen, I need everyone in the radio hut right after breakfast is over. And whatever you do, Kent,” he said, pointing a finger, “don’t say anything to that bitch, Lane.”

Clark shot his lieutenant a confused look. “About what, L T?”

“Exactly.” Oliver rose from his seat, taking his coffee cup with him as he left the mess. 

Clark stared at his companion. “What was that all about?”

AC shrugged. “Looks like the L T’s got it in for Lane.”

He shook his head. “No, I think it’s more than that. I mean, I know she’s a reporter and all, but … is there something going on I don’t know about?”

“You got me, Kid,” AC replied. “I know about as much as you do.”

They looked up as someone else came to join them. A short, wiry kid named Bart Allen. He put down his tray, loaded with toast, rice and scrambled eggs. Clark had no idea how the kid stayed so skinny with the amount of food he ate. 

“What up?” Bart asked before stuffing eggs in his mouth.

“Nothin’,” Clark replied. AC went back to his food, glaring at it as if he hoped it would suddenly turn into something that was actually edible. 

“So, what’s with you and that chick?” Bart asked.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” Clark said, taking a gulp of his coffee. It was hot enough to burn his tongue, if he wasn’t invulnerable. The boy cocked an eyebrow at him. Bart was around the same age as Clark but appeared younger. He’d been with the unit only a little longer than him.

“Yeah? You two seemed awful chummy last night.”

“She’s my girlfriend’s cousin,” he explained. “Well, my ex-girlfriend, now, I guess.”

Bart looked interested. “Ex, huh? Got a pic?”

He dug a photo out of his wallet. It had been taken a few weeks before graduation. It had been an exceptionally warm spring day and they’d gone on a picnic. Chloe had been wearing a pretty sundress which had shown her lovely curves. She had brought the camera she always used when taking photographs for the Torch and Clark had taken her photograph. 

Bart whistled softly. “Wow!” he said. “She’s cute.”

“Yeah, she is.”

“Why’d you two break up?”

He shrugged. He wasn’t sure he understood it either, but it had been Chloe’s decision. She had figured they both had some growing up to do. Clark still had feelings for her but he wasn’t sure they were the ‘forever’ kind of feelings. 

Lane walked in and immediately made her way to their table. AC, obviously remembering what the lieutenant had said, quickly got up. Bart returned to his food, ignoring the reporter. 

“Was it something I said?” the woman asked as AC passed her. She sat down beside Clark, taking AC’s seat. She lit a cigarette. 

“Please, we’re eating,” Clark told her. 

“So?” She cracked a grin. “If you think me not smoking would be an improvement on that muck …”

“Why aren’t you eating?”

“I ate in my quarters,” she said, the expression on her face suggesting what she had eaten hadn’t been much better than what was on offer in the mess. She leaned forward. This morning she was wearing a short-sleeved white shirt, the tails knotted below her ample chest. “So, tell me, what do you know about your lieutenant?”

Clark stared at her. “Why?” he asked suspiciously.

“’Cause he paid me a visit, last night.” She smirked. “And let me tell you, it was a very interesting visit.”

Inexplicably, Clark felt a surge of what he could only guess was jealousy. He wasn’t sure what she was implying but he wondered if there was more to the visit. It was strange. He barely even liked the woman and he’d just been talking about Chloe to his teammates. Why was he even feeling this way?

“I don’t know anything,” he said. “Just that he’s on his second tour.”

Lois snorted. “C’mon, you gotta know more than that,” she said. 

“Well, I don’t,” he replied shortly. “Why are you so nosy, anyway?”

“It’s called being a good reporter,” she returned.

“I know how to be a reporter,” he snapped. “I worked on the Torch with Chloe.”

Chloe had wanted to be the editor but the principal had refused, telling her she was too young as a freshman, even though she had more experience than the junior who had eventually taken on the role. Principal Reynolds had given the job to Clark in their senior year, much to Chloe’s annoyance. Clark had been reluctant but the principal had told them it just wasn’t appropriate for Chloe to have taken on the role. 

“Yeah, you reported on cafeteria menus is what I heard,” she said with another smirk. 

He rolled his eyes and got up from the table. Bart, having finished his breakfast, joined him. All the other men in the mess were leaving. 

Lois started to follow them. Bart turned and looked at her.

“Lady, this is marine stuff,” he said. “You ain’t invited.”

“I have the C.O’s permission,” she said. “If it’s a story …”

The other man stood in her way. “No way, no how,” he said.

“Listen, short stuff,” she began, but looked up. Clark turned and saw the lieutenant glaring angrily, arms folded as he leaned against the radio hut. 

“Beat it, little girl! This ain’t none of your concern.” He turned his glare on Clark. “I thought I told you not to say anything!”

“I didn’t,” Clark told him. “She just followed us. Honest.”

The blond man nodded his head toward the door of the hut. Unlike the others, this one had a solid wooden door. 

“Look, lieutenant,” Lois began. “I have permission from your commanding officer to go anywhere on this base.”

“Yeah? Well, you don’t have mine! I ain’t gonna say it again! Beat it!”

She looked mutinous, thrusting out her lower lip in a furious pout. The officer glared back at her. Clark frowned, wondering how this stand-off was going to be resolved. 

Oliver called one of the Vietnamese soldiers over. “Guard the door. If she tries to come in, shoot her.”

“Bastard!” Lois spat. 

Clark glanced at the reporter and shrugged. She shot him a filthy look as if she considered him responsible for the actions of his lieutenant. He shook his head and followed the officer inside the hut. 

A map was laid out on the table. While the hut had been repurposed specifically for their communications, Clark had learned that it was also used by the brass to discuss any missions. 

The lieutenant made them gather around the table.

“All right, listen up, ladies. We’ve been tasked with a special mission.” He pointed to an area about a hundred miles away on the map. “Day after tomorrow, we’ll be choppered out to this region.”

“What’s there, L T? It don’t look like anything but jungle.”

Clark looked over the map. The terrain looked fairly rough. There didn’t appear to be any villages nearby but there was a series of waterways.

“Word is the VC have taken a few of our guys prisoner. Our mission is to get those men out. AC, you’re our best man in the water. Take two of our guys and flush out the enemy.”

“I’ll take Clark and Bart then,” he said.

The lieutenant shook his head. “Nope. I need Kent and Allen.”

“What for?” Bart asked.

“Because you’re small and fast, kid. You’re the only one small enough to crawl through any tunnels. You’re to find them and blow them.”

“What about me?” Clark asked.

“I need your sixth sense, or whatever you call it. That thing that saved our necks back in the swamp. You stick with me, Kent and we’ll all get out of this alive.”

“What’s so important about these guys?” one of the other men asked. 

Oliver smirked. “Thought you might ask that. The father of one of the men thought to have been taken prisoner paid big bucks to get him out. The others, well, he don’t care much about them. He just wants his kid back.”

“Who is he?” Clark asked, wondering what kind of man would shell out a lot of money just to save his son. 

“Figured you knew him. Word is he has a big plant in your town, kid.”

He stared at his lieutenant. The only person he could think of that owned a large plant in Smallville was Lionel Luthor.

“You mean, Lionel Luthor? Are you saying we’re supposed to rescue Lex Luthor?” he asked. 

“You got it, kid.” Oliver ran a hand over his face. “I knew Lex. Went to school with him. His father’s a real bastard. Lex ain’t much better, but at least he didn’t shirk in his duty to his country.” He went on to explain that an advanced scouting mission had come across the prisoners camped in an abandoned village. It was why the village had never shown up on any map.

Clark chewed his lower lip. It was little wonder Lois was so interested in what was going on. If she had any inkling of it, this would be big news back in Metropolis. 

Bart raised his hand. “Scuse me, L T, but why are we being sent to go rescue some rich prick’s son? It’s gotta be some kind of a joke.”

“Like this war,” Oliver returned with a smirk. “Like this whole damn war.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait. Between moving house and finishing one WIP, it's been a busy month or so. Right now I have limited internet access as well so I'm having to use wifi elsewhere.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lois is still trying to find out what the mission is and hatches a plan.

Lois paced the ground beside the radio hut, trying to listen in on the conversation. The soldier assigned to guard the door stood blocking the way, a rifle held across his body, his hand at the ready on the trigger, as if he was preparing to shoot. If she moved closer, his finger would bend slightly, stroking the trigger in a clear warning. 

Huffing, she turned and walked off, moving to behind the officers’ quarters. She peeked out around the corner. The guard was still on the door and just as wary. Lois decided there was nothing for it but to go around and see if she could hear anything around the back of the hut. 

She circled the camp, only to reach a dead end. There were makeshift fortifications surrounding the base and the radio hut was right up against the barrier. She couldn’t go around the other side as the guard would spot her. 

“Damn it,” she swore softly. Something big was happening and she hadn’t been able to hear a thing. The sounds of men leaving the hut reached her but she stayed put, not wanting to get caught by the lieutenant. 

He sure seemed to have it in for her, she thought. Or else he was just protective of his men. God knew, being responsible for twenty guys who faced death every day, not to mention keeping his own butt safe, was big enough. She guessed she hadn’t made things any easier for him. 

The men appeared to be in a sombre mood as she entered the Officers’ Club later that day. They were still drinking hard but there were no jokes. Obviously whatever mission they were going on was potentially dangerous. 

She saw Kent in the corner, the same table he’d sat at the night before. She grabbed a chair and sat next to him. He was quiet, brooding.

“Why the long face, Smallville?” she asked. 

He ignored her, staring morosely down at the scarred table top. The lieutenant passed by the table and shot her a look but didn’t comment. Shrugging, Lois tried again.

“Buy you a beer, Marine?” she asked. 

He sighed softly and didn’t reply but she took the slight shrug of his shoulders as assent and signalled the bartender. Two beers were placed in front of them. 

“Guess it must be bad if you’re not talking,” she said. Again, Clark refused to comment, but he picked up the bottle of beer and took a sip. She nudged him and sent him a smile. “You know what you need? You need a distraction. I got some cards back in my bunk. How about a game of poker?”

He spoke finally. “I really don’t feel like talking,” he said.

“You don’t have to talk to play poker,” she replied. “Well, you do, but it doesn’t really leave much room for serious conversation. How about it?” Okay, so that last part was sort of a lie. She remembered lots of poker games she’d played with some of the men on the base and it had loosened a few tongues. Especially after they’d got a few drinks in them.

“I’d be game,” another marine told her, obviously having heard her suggestion. He turned to the others. “Hey guys, Lane here thinks she can beat us at poker.”

She frowned slightly. She hadn’t exactly said anything about beating them at the game but … whatever. She could drink these guys under the table and clean their clocks as well. While she was at it, she might actually get a clue as to what was up. 

Wonder of wonders, the lieutenant appeared to be just as enthusiastic about the game as the men and procured a deck of cards from the bartender. He grabbed a few chairs and set them around the table. 

“All right. Fifty cent minimum,” he announced, shuffling the deck. “Kent, you in?”

Clark looked at his lieutenant then at Lois and shrugged. “I guess.”

“Short stuff, you in?”

“Yeah, boss, I’m in,” Bart replied. 

Three others, including Arthur Curry, joined in. Oliver began dealing out the cards. 

“Ante up,” he said. He put in his fifty cents, then called to the bartender. “Hey, Sam, keep those drinks coming.”

“You got it, Chief,” was the reply. 

Lois called on all the tricks in her repertoire as she played against the men, remembering all the things she had learned back at the base. The marines played as well, if not better than the army boys. 

It didn’t seem to matter where she was but the smells and sounds always seemed the same. The cards had a musty sort of odour, the edges dirty with use. Cigarette smoke filled the air, as did the sour smell of hops. It reminded her of the times when, as a child, her father would be home on leave and he would play cards with his friends on the base. 

Her mother would object when Lois would sit on her father’s lap, watching as he played. Sometimes she would point to a card and tell him to keep that one. The General, although he’d been just a colonel then, would call her his ‘secret weapon’. He always seemed to be lucky at cards when she was with him. 

“Yo, Lane, you in?”

She looked questioningly at the lieutenant. “What’s the bet?” she asked. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Two bucks to call,” Clark told her. She looked quickly around the table. Kent, the lieutenant and another of the marines were still in. She narrowed her eyes, trying to gauge their demeanour. The blond officer looked smug as if he had a great hand. She looked at her own. Two pair. It was hard to tell if he was bluffing or not. 

She put in two dollars. “Okay, I call, and I raise you five.”

The man from Smallville groaned. “Fold.” The other marine did the same. 

Lieutenant Queen smirked at her. “That the best you can do, Lane?” He held up some bills. “Here’s your seven and I raise you ten bucks.”

Damn! she thought. Either he had a really good hand or he was just really good at bluffing. She chewed on her lower lip, then made the decision. 

“Fine. I call,” she said, putting down ten bucks. It would leave her only three until payday, which was another two weeks away, but it was worth the risk. 

Oliver swallowed, his Adam’s Apple bobbing in his throat as all smugness appeared to vanish. He put his cards down. “Uh, I only got a pair. Aces,” he said, putting his cards down.   
She grinned at him, putting her own cards down. “Two pair. Kings and fours.” She started to take the pot but he put the rest of his hand down. 

“Also got three fives,” he told her. 

“Piss up a rope,” she exclaimed. “That was a dirty trick!” He laughed in her face.

“Gotta get up early to beat me, missy!”

“Yeah? Well, I bet I can drink you under the table, loo-tenant.”

He scowled at the exaggerated pronunciation. “We’ll see.”

The friendly game quickly began to degenerate as the drinking turned heavier. Lois began drinking shots just to prove to the older man that she was capable of drinking as much, if not more, than him. The other marines at the table soon dropped out. Kent included.

Oliver was starting to get a little red in the face but continued to drink. 

“So, Loo … tenant,” Lois said, her words slurring a little. “What’s your deal?”

“Whash my deal with what?” he asked, swaying on his chair. 

“With me?”

“Ain’t you. Issh reporters. Don’t like ‘em.”

“How come?” she asked.

“Parents. Died when I was … when I was nine. Reporters … came … came to my sh-school to interview me. Like vultures, they were.”

“What school?”

“Excelsior,” he said after a few moments. It came out almost like an explosion of syllables as if it was a major effort just to get that out. 

She knew the school. It was a preparatory academy for mostly children of wealthy parents.

“So, you’re a rich kid, huh?”

He shrugged but didn’t confirm or deny it. 

“Seems to me it’s more than that. With me, I mean. Like it’s kind of personal.”

Again he shrugged. He took a deep breath and sat back, pressing a glass to his temple. She waited as he tried to sober up a little. He didn’t slur his words as he began to talk.

“On my first tour, there were a couple of kids. Same age as Kent and that other kid. Bart. Good kids. Full of … whaddyoucallit?”

She shook her head, not sure what he meant. He tried to explain, saying something about the kids being sold the con about serving in the war being a great adventure. He spoke slowly, making an effort to not show just how drunk he was.

“What happened?”

“We were out on patrol. Got ambushed. One of the kids bought it then and there. Was nothin’ I could do. The other one … I managed to drag him clear but knew he wasn’t gonna make it. Took two bullets to the chest. I sat there, his blood on my hands and all I could do was watch him die. When I got back to base, there was this reporter there. I tried to tell him what it was like to have a kid die in my arms but when he printed the story it was all about a heroic battle.” The lieutenant began to sob heavily. “That wasn’t no battle. We got caught with our pants down. Ain’t nothin’ heroic about that.”

Lois swallowed. As much as she wanted to prove to her father and to her fellow reporters that she was as tough as nails and as good as any other reporter, she couldn’t help feeling a lump in her throat. She watched as this seemingly hard man sitting in front of her sobbed. 

No wonder he was so protective of his men, she thought. He’d already seen too much death and destruction. 

She felt a hand on her shoulder. 

“Are you happy now?” a voice said harshly.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clark gets a late-night visitor.

Clark walked away from Lois before he could lose his temper. He’d watched the lieutenant fall apart while the reporter had just kept pushing and pushing. Maybe he hadn’t known a lot about Oliver Queen, but he figured if his commander wanted to share, he would have. But that clearly hadn’t been good enough for Lane.

He thanked his lucky stars that no one else had heard the exchange. The other men were sitting at the far end of the bar and the conversation hadn’t been loud enough to be heard over their own voices. The last thing the men needed was to see a guy as tough as the lieutenant go to pieces. Not to mention why. 

He could understand it. The man had to have seen some horrors in his first tour, although why he had signed up for a second tour after going through that was something Clark couldn’t fathom. He had no doubt that what had happened to the two men who had died was barely the tip of the iceberg. He was sure what Oliver had related was a watered-down version of events. 

Clark couldn’t help feeling pissed off at Lois. Now he knew she and Chloe were related. The brunette had that same tenacity her cousin did. When he’d met the blonde, it hadn’t taken long before she was noticing he wasn’t like other guys and she’d started asking too many questions. They had almost thrown away their friendship over her need for the truth, but Chloe had eventually apologised, saying their relationship was more important than that. 

He left the bar and walked over to his quarters. Usually he would have to share a hut with another marine, but all the bunks had been taken when he’d arrived and he was forced to use a cot in a shack behind the Officer’s Club. It wasn’t bad, as shacks went, and at least he didn’t have to worry about being caught floating in his sleep. 

He lit the lamp, using his heat vision so he could see in the darkness, before stripping off his shirt, using it to wipe his chest. He didn’t sweat like the other men, since his abilities made him impervious to the heat, but when he’d been in basic with the others, he’d copied their actions. It was now almost automatic. 

Clark picked up another shirt, about to put it on, when there was a knock on the door. He took two long steps and opened the door, scowling at the visitor.

“What do you want?” he asked tersely.

Lois swayed in the doorway, clearly drunk. Her eyes widened as she saw he was shirtless, her gaze raking over his body. A slow smile formed on her full lips and Clark saw the tip of her tongue grazing her mouth, wetting her lips. She clearly appreciated what she saw. 

She tried to look nonchalant as she leaned against the doorframe.

“I wanted to talk to you,” she said. 

He started to put a hand out as her body slipped from the door and she pitched forward. He instinctively caught her in his arms, if only to save her from falling face first onto the hard ground which formed the floor of the shack. She grinned up at him.

“Hi, sailor,” she said. “Come here often?”

He was about to thrust her away but was caught by her lovely hazel eyes. For a girl who was as drunk as she was, her eyes were inexplicably clear. Clark couldn’t get drunk but he had seen fellow marines so drunk they could barely stand up straight and their eyes were so glassy it was a wonder they could even see. 

He couldn’t help but feel the slender body in his arms and be reminded of the last time he had held a girl in his arms. Where Chloe had been curvy, Lois was athletic. Chloe was petite but Lois was a little taller. They couldn’t be more disparate in their figures if they tried, yet both had a certain quality, a certain sexiness that he was drawn to. 

Lois was wearing a tank top which was almost tight enough to practically mould to her figure but loose enough to move with her. As she lay in his arms, he couldn’t help but see the way the neck of the shirt gaped enough for him to see some impressive cleavage. He caught a glimpse of a dusky pink nipple but despite the apparent invitation, he felt guilty at even thinking of touching her intimately.

The hem of the shirt had ridden up, exposing her navel and the waistband of a pair of black underpants. For a few moments, Clark was tempted to pull down the shorts she was wearing to further expose the underpants. Again, he felt that guilt. As much as he wanted to, she was drunk and he wasn’t about to take advantage of her in that state.

Lois, meanwhile, was taking advantage of her position to explore his chest, her hands stroking his pecs. She was making low satisfied noises in her throat. They reminded him a little of a cat they’d once had on the farm. While it shied away from human contact, it would lay in the sun in the loft, grooming itself before giving a satisfied purr. 

“You’re so … hmm,” she hummed. “Strong.” He didn’t think that was the word she was going for, but at this point it didn’t matter. Her hands were slowly travelling downward to cup his groin. Clark silently cursed the marines’ unwritten rule about ‘going commando’, as AC had put it. Not that it would have helped, he supposed. 

He really should stop this, he thought, even as the reporter’s hand found his cock through his shorts. She was drunk and probably wouldn’t thank him in the morning. Plus, he was still angry at her for the way she had forced the lieutenant to …

“Oh, God,” he moaned. She had somehow managed to unbutton his pants and wrap her hand around his naked member. She clearly knew what she was doing as she held him with a firm grip. The first time Chloe had done it, she had been hesitant, unwilling to grasp him firmly. 

Just when he thought he was going to drop the woman in his arms, she went down on her knees. She kept one hand on his cock, the other keeping a firm hold on his shorts. He gave a strangled moan as she leaned forward and licked the head of his penis.

Clark fought the heat in his eyes, knowing he was about to give a burst of heat vision if she didn’t let up. For the first time since the ability had emerged, he could feel beads of perspiration forming on his forehead.

He put a hand on her shoulder as if to push her away.

“Lois, you’re drunk,” he said. 

She looked up at him and again he was struck by how clear her eyes were. 

“Not that drunk,” she replied, sounding remarkably sober for someone who had been drinking hard liquor for the past few hours. “I can drink any guy under the table.”

She resumed sucking him off, her mouth taking more in the bolder she became. Clark opened and closed his hands, not sure if he should push her away. Part of him felt if he let this continue he would be disloyal to Chloe. 

This wasn’t fair. He might be an alien with superpowers, but he still had the same urges as every human male did and what Lois was doing was making all those urges very difficult to resist. 

As suddenly as she had begun, Lois pulled off. She got to her feet and stared at him, wiping the saliva from her mouth. Clark stared back at her, wondering what she planned to do next. He reached for her, one hand on her waist, the other on her shapely ass. She smirked at him, tossing her head back so her long hair fell in chocolate waves down her body.

“You wanna get down and dirty, Smallville?” she asked.

He frowned at her, not sure what she meant. She huffed, her hand once more gripping his hard cock. He tried to pull away from that grip, knowing he would lose control. 

“I’m asking if you want to fuck me,” she said.

Once again, he stared at her. Did he? He knew he had some control over his abilities, although he’d stopped short of going all the way with Chloe. As aroused as he was, he didn’t know if he could fuck a girl without hurting her. 

He once more found himself thinking about his ex-girlfriend. They hadn’t exactly made any promises to each other. Was it being disloyal when they weren’t dating anymore? 

Lois sighed. “Never mind. Shoulda figured you for the shy type. I bet you never even went all the way with my cousin.” She snorted as if the thought of him being a virgin was something to be ridiculed.

She turned away, stepping toward the door. Whether it was the fact that he was hard and not about to get any satisfaction or the fact that she seemed almost disgusted by his virginity, Clark didn’t know but he quickly moved in front of her.

He didn’t say a word as she stared at him, but grabbed her and pulled her to him, kissing her aggressively. He could taste the bitterness of the whiskey she’d drunk and the sourness of the cigarettes she smoked but he was beyond caring. He lifted her in his arms and carried her over to his cot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hadn't planned on this in the beginning but Lois has a mind of her own. All I'll say is, she doesn't really understand why she does what she does in this chapter. There will be more on this in a later chapter.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things heat up between Clark and Lois, but is it a mistake?

A big part of her knew she should stop this before it got out of hand but as the Kansas farmboy proceeded to strip her clothes off her, she knew it was already out of control. 

What about Chloe, a voice in the back of her head asked, but that thought was quickly banished with the touch of the man above her. She didn’t know what it was about him that shattered her resolve. Maybe it was the alcohol she’d drunk. She had drunk a lot. 

After the lieutenant had passed out at the table, she had found herself thinking of the dark-haired man and the way he had stormed out of the bar. He’d had every right to be angry at her. She hadn’t meant for Oliver to unload himself like that. She’d been hoping he would have let something slip about the mission. She certainly hadn’t expected him to just let loose.

Of course, you didn’t do anything to stop it either, the voice told her. A voice that sounded a lot like Clark Kent. 

She frowned, realising he’d stopped doing whatever he’d been doing when she’d been distracted. He stood by the narrow cot, his shorts un-buttoned, his cock at half-mast.

“We shouldn’t,” he said, shaking his head. “I shouldn’t.”

“I’m not that drunk,” she told him. Her head was already showing signs of clearing.

“It’s not that.”

She bit her lip. “It’s Chloe, isn’t it?” She sat up, not caring that she was naked and pulled him down to sit beside her. “I thought you two had broken up?”

“We are,” he said with a long sigh. She had the oddest feeling that it wasn't really about Chloe either, but went with it.

“Then why …”

She couldn’t help remembering her earlier thoughts. Would Chloe have even understood what had just happened? 

“What happened between you two?” she asked.

“Nothing. She just wanted other things.” He shrugged. “I don’t know. I mean, she was always talking about being a reporter at the biggest newspaper in Metropolis, but …”

“The Daily Planet? That’s where I am.” She knew of her cousin’s ambitions to join the newspaper but hadn’t heard anything about it since graduation.

Clark sighed. “She wanted to start working for them right after graduation but the editor said there weren’t any jobs. He said she didn’t have enough experience.”

Lois frowned at him. “She worked on the school paper and she didn’t have enough experience? I worked summers at the army rag and I still got in. Okay, I had to start at the bottom as a cub reporter …”

Maybe that was the problem. Chloe probably thought with her experience at the Torch, she didn’t want to start at the bottom. That coupled with the fact that the newspaper business was still very much a ‘boys’ club’. 

“You still care for Chloe,” she said.

He nodded. “Yeah, I do. I mean, I don’t know if it’s, you know, the forever kind, if you know what I mean.”

“I do. I met this guy. Lex. It was a couple of years ago and he was a bit older than me. We were dating for a while, but I couldn’t see myself marrying him. He was kind of intense.”

“Lex?” he asked, his eyes widening. She wondered what that was about.

“Yeah. Why? You know something?”

He appeared to shut down, like a mask covering his face.

“No. Not really. There was just this guy I knew. Well, knew of him, anyway. His dad owns a big company in my hometown.”

She shrugged. Lex hadn’t really talked much about his family. Or at all, really. The only thing he seemed to be interested in was drinking and sex. He’d liked the fact that she was the only person who could keep up with him when it came to drinking. The sex … well, that was another matter. It had all just seemed so empty. Meaningless. 

She looked at Clark. She’d originally intended to try to explain to him what had really happened with Oliver but then she’d slipped and he’d caught her in his arms. She had looked up into those beautiful green eyes and had been lost. She’d gazed at him, her hand brushing the smooth planes of his torso and she hadn’t been able to resist exploring further. The clothing he wore on base, like the other men in his unit, didn’t hide much, but she’d still been surprised at just how well-built he was. Lex had been slender, almost skinny, but Clark …

She’d found herself wondering if his chest was muscular, would the rest of him be just as well-built. Then when she’d begun exploring further below she had wondered what he would taste like. 

A flush crept over her body as she remembered what he’d felt like in her mouth. His skin had been velvety smooth and he’d tasted ... the only way she could think of to compare it was he was as smooth as a fine scotch. She wanted to taste him again.

She leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his lips. He resisted a little, pulling back hesitantly. She moved closer, her hand on his thigh as she tried to deepen the kiss, thrusting her tongue in his mouth. 

He pulled away again. “We shouldn’t,” he whispered. “I’ve never …”

“I know,” she whispered back. “It’s okay.”

“I don’t know if I …”

“It’s okay,” she repeated. 

She straddled him, kissing him again. Clark finally seemed to respond, his hands on her waist, supporting her as she lifted her bottom before grinding down on him. She didn’t care if he was a virgin. All she cared about was the feel of him around her, the taste of him on her lips. She could taste the beer he’d drunk earlier, smell the soap he’d used to wash himself earlier. 

“Touch me,” she said softly. 

Nodding, he cupped her breast, rubbing his thumb over the nipple. The sensation travelled through her body, eliciting a moan. He clearly knew what he was doing and Lois gathered he’d done more than just kiss Chloe. 

She clung to him as he began kissing her neck, sucking on a small area of skin just below her ear. She moaned once more. 

“Yes!”

“God, Lois,” he moaned in reply. It began to feel almost like he had more than two hands as they seemed to be everywhere. 

She barely remembered pushing him down on the cot or how she’d managed to get his shorts off, but he was soon stretched out on his back, looking up at her. She shifted position, one hand behind her to grasp his penis, keeping it steady as she slowly lowered herself down on him.

God, the feeling of him inside her, filling her, was incredible. He began to thrust inside her with powerful strokes and it was all she could do to hold on. 

“Clark!” she cried out, a hand reaching for him. She felt him rolling them over, onto the dirt floor.

A tidal wave of sensation washed over her and Lois felt dizzy as he pounded inside her. She cried out as she came, reaching out for him. Clark suddenly pulled out and rolled away from her, giving a low moan. Confused, she rolled over but couldn’t see and assumed the lamp must have gone out during their lovemaking. 

There was the sound of movement and she felt a hand on her stomach.

“Lois, I …” He suddenly stopped talking. There was almost an eerie silence for what felt like a long time. Almost as if he was listening to something.

“Smallville?”

He shushed her. She frowned, wondering what was going on. Something soft dropped on her body. She felt in the darkness and realised it was her clothing.

“Get dressed,” he said abruptly.

“What?”

“You need to leave. Right now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know my chapters are somewhat shorter than I usually write but it just feels appropriate to the story. As for the cliffie, sorry, not sorry. :D You should all know me by now.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The night takes a tragic turn.

He could tell Lois was confused. Not only that, she was pissed that he was tossing her out right after they’d made love. She couldn’t know what he’d heard in the night. The sound of the enemy preparing an attack on the base. 

He heard her getting dressed, making huffing sounds. Worried that she might get hurt in the ensuring crossfire, he silently begged her to hurry up. He needed to get her somewhere safe before he alerted the men. Given the fact that more than half of them were likely still drunk, he did not like their chances of surviving the ambush. 

“You know something, Smallville, you’re an ass …”

He put a hand on her mouth. He realised he had to tell her what was going on. As much as he had wanted to keep doing whatever they’d been doing, it wasn’t safe.

“Lois, I …”

There was a bright flash as something exploded near his shack. Lois gasped.

“What was that?”

“Mortar,” he said. “Sappers. They’re attacking the base.”

Another flash and for a second he could see her face. Fear showed in her expression. 

“Clark!”

“Lois, I need to get you out of here. Somewhere safe.”

“Where?” she asked. “If that’s mortar fire …”

He realised she made a good point. Given the attack had happened without warning, they probably weren’t well prepared for it. 

Another explosion shook the walls of his shack. Lois cried out.

“That was too close!”

The only place he could think of to take her was the radio hut. The building was a little more solid and he’d seen sandbags against the main wall. He could hear the men yelling as they ran for their weapons, seeking cover where they could fire on the sappers.

He grabbed her hand and pulled the door open. Oliver, looking very much worse for wear, was yelling out orders to the men. He saw them and scowled.

“Kent! Get Lane over to the radio hut and keep her out of the way! We got sappers attacking the base!”

“Yes, sir!” he replied.

Lois was barely able to keep up with his long strides as he ran toward the radio hut, trying to dodge the men running around like chickens with their heads cut off. More mortar fire exploded nearby. One of the men bought it, caught in the explosion, his body flying several feet before landing somewhere in the shadows. 

He heard it before he saw it. The low whistle of the bomb as it headed straight for them. Clark quickly calculated the impact point. There was no time. He knew if he ran at super-speed to the radio hut, he would expose his abilities. The other option wasn’t much better but he might be able to cover for himself.

Making a split-second decision, he pushed Lois down on the ground, ignoring her protest at his rough handling and covered her. Dirt kicked up in his face and he felt shrapnel bounce off his body as the bomb exploded just a few feet away. 

He looked down at Lois, able to see her face in the moonlight. She was pale, trembling. She stared back at him, clearly aware of how close that had been. 

He scooped her up in his arms and ran with her at normal human speed to the radio hut. He managed to set her down beside the sandbags just as more explosions shook the building.

“Clark?”

“I’m okay.”

“You were hit.”

“I got lucky. I’m fine.”

“But you …” She reached up, touching his face. Her hand came away streaked with dirt. “If you hadn’t been there …” She shuddered. 

He heard another scream and realised another man had bought it. He had to stop this before someone else was killed. 

“Lois, I need you to stay here. Keep down behind the sandbags.”

There was no guarantee that she would be completely safe, but at least she would be out of the way.

Lois grasped his arm. “Wait. Where are you going?”

“To help the guys,” he said.

She still held him. “But Oliver said …”

“I know what he said. Just stay put. Please.”

She bit her lip, clearly worried. “Okay,” she said, nodding. “Please be careful.”

He left the hut and ran out, dodging Bart coming across the compound in a rush. As much as he wanted to grab the kid and get him out of the way, he figured the best thing to do would be to circle around behind the enemy.

Gunfire erupted nearby, hitting a few oil barrels. Luckily, they were almost empty, he thought or else they might have exploded. He quickly gauged the direction of the gunfire and prayed the buggers didn’t have some kind of night vision. Checking he wasn’t going to be seen, he leapt over the barrier to the compound and ran at super speed. He knew he would probably be running right into the crossfire as the men in the unit returned fire but there was nothing he could do about that. He heard yells as another man was hit.

The ambush party had set up a few hundred yards from the compound, deep in the vegetation. If he hadn’t seen the flashes from their weapons, he would never have known they were there in the darkness. Clark moved quickly, removing what weapons he could and sabotaging the rest. The Viet Cong soldiers began yelling at each other in their own language, clearly wondering what had happened. 

Clark saw a couple of them had fallen, hit by the returned fire. He heard the staccato of automatic gunfire. It continued for a few more minutes until the men on base realised the firing from the enemy had stopped. 

He returned to base. Oliver was already rounding up the men, taking stock. Two men had been seriously wounded. Another had been hit by shrapnel but it was only scratches. 

“Boss!” Bart ran up to the lieutenant as he barked orders to evac the two wounded men out. He looked at the shorter man.

“What?”

“McKinney and Tennyson. They bought it.”

“Fuck!” He frowned at Clark. “Where’s Lane?”

“I left her in the radio hut, like you told me to, L T.”

The blond officer raised an eyebrow. “Alone? I told you to stay with her, Kent! And while we’re on the subject, I thought I told you to stay away from her. Now I hear you two have been bumping uglies.”

“Uh …”

“Next time I give you an order, Kent, you better damn well follow it!” He shook his head. “You shouldn’t have left her alone in there. If she starts looking around, she might find stuff on Operation Luthor.”

Clark stared at his commanding officer, realising the lieutenant was right. They’d left the map and a few other papers concerning the mission in the radio hut. If Lois saw them …

He ran back to the hut. Lois was standing in the middle of the building, a paper in her hand. She looked up at him, her face pale. 

“You’re going to rescue Lex Luthor?” she asked.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lois gets a few home truths

Lois hadn’t said anything to Clark as he left the radio hut but she was sure she had been hit by shrapnel when the bomb had exploded. She still had no idea how he had managed to not get hit when he’d covered her, but she wasn’t going to push for answers. 

It was probably just a scratch but it still stung like hell. She wasn’t willing to risk her neck to find that out, however, and stayed put until long after the shooting stopped. She sat where the farmboy-turned-marine had left her, waiting until she heard the shouts indicating the fighting was over, then got up. She found a lamp and lit it, looking around for something to clean her wound. 

There was a kit beside the table and she grabbed the rubbing alcohol, hissing slightly as she poured the liquid on the wound. When she got a good look at it, she realised she had been incredibly lucky. 

She was reluctant to go outside when she heard the lieutenant yelling and figured she would be better off staying put until Kent came for her. As she waited, she happened to see the papers on the table. There was a map and a paper with a name she knew very well. 

The door opened and Clark came in. He looked from her to the paper in her hand.

“You’re going to rescue Lex Luthor?” she asked.

She hadn’t even known Lex had joined up, let alone been taken prisoner. 

Clark immediately took the paper from her and put it back on the table, taking her injured arm to guide her away. She winced, sucking in a breath. He must have heard it as he looked at her with concern.

“You’re hurt.”

“It’s just a scratch,” she said. “I guess I got hit by some shrapnel. I was going to put a dressing on it, but …”

He nodded. “Sit down,” he said gently, helping her down to the floor and kneeling beside her. He grabbed a bandage from the kit and dressed the wound. “I don’t think it’ll need stitches. It’s not deep.”

“I know,” she said, watching as he wrapped a bandage around her arm to keep the dressing in place. “Thanks.” She glanced at the table. “Clark, about the mission.”

“No, Lois. I can’t tell you.”

“But if you’re going to rescue Lex …”

“Is that all you care about? Getting the story?” he asked.

“Not all,” she said softly, looking up into his beautiful green eyes. “I …” She dropped her gaze. “What happened before … I … I didn’t mean for that to happen.”

“You were drunk.”

“No, I mean … I wanted to, I just …” She sighed. “God, why is this so hard?” She gazed at him, wondering if he felt the same feelings she was feeling now. Like if he would let her, she would jump into his arms and kiss him until she was breathless. He’d saved her life. He was filthy but she didn’t care. “You know, I don’t really do that. Sleep with guys I just met. There’s just something about you that I ...” She trailed off, not really sure what she wanted to say.

He looked at her with a cynical expression.

“Don’t worry about it. I’m not under any illusions, Lane.”

Well, that hurt! She glared at him. “Well, fine! If that’s the way you’re going to be, then I don’t need you, Kent!”

She pushed him away and got to her feet. She left the hut without looking back. 

She stopped in the middle of the compound, watching in anguish as two marines passed her bearing a stretcher. It was obvious they were carrying a dead man. She bit her lip and waited until they had passed before going to her own quarters. Luckily the damage from the bombs was superficial and she only had to clear her bunk. 

Unable to sleep, she spent the rest of the night writing up notes on what had happened that night. Of course, leaving out the fact that she’d got drunk and then slept with Clark. 

The next morning, she heard the lieutenant barking orders and left her quarters. 

“Lieutenant?” 

He turned and glared at her. “What do you want?”

“I wanted to talk to you.”

“I’ve got nothing to say.” His face was unshaven and his eyes were bloodshot. He appeared hung over.

“Look, I know things are bad, but I was hoping I could talk to you about last night. About the sappers.”

He smirked at her. “You want the scoop, that it, Lane? Let me tell you something, little girl. You might think you’ve seen it all, being an army brat, but you know nothing about what goes on here.”

“I would if you’d just tell me. Lieutenant, there’s a story here.”

He snorted. “You really think they’ll let you tell it? Are you really that naïve?”

She had never really thought she was and tried to tell him so. 

“No. But I …”

“Look, you wanna know how it really is? Take a look around. We got caught with our pants down. Two men died last night. On my watch. And why did that happen? Because of you. Because the men can’t resist a pretty girl.”

Guilt filled her. As much as she wanted to pretend otherwise, she’d been the one to suggest the poker game. She’d deliberately encouraged the lieutenant to get drunk, all so she could get the scoop on the mission. Still, as angry as he was at her, he had to take some of the responsibility himself. 

She remembered what he’d told her about his first tour and realised he was just as angry at himself. She looked at him, knowing there was really nothing she could do to take away his pain. 

“I’m sorry.”

He shook his head. “You really want to know why I don’t like you, Lane? You come here with your big ideas about getting the real scoop but the truth is, you think you can wave your tits in someone’s face and they’ll give it up to you. Like Kent. Don’t think I don’t know what happened between you and the kid last night. You’re a distraction.”

She bit her lip. As much as she had wanted Kent, she knew it had been wrong. Yet somehow she had been unable to resist him. As she’d tried to tell him, there had just been something about him. Something that told her they had something special.

“You’re wrong, Lieutenant. I didn’t come here just to wave my tits in someone’s face. I came for a story.”

“You want the story?” She tried to pull away as the man placed his hands on either side of her head, forcing her to look over the compound to the two sheet-covered bodies.

“The story is, I have to write a letter to two mamas telling them their boys will be coming home in a body bag. I got kids barely old enough to shave under my command. I get to bury babies, not even old enough to be walking. You want your scoop, Lane? Forget Luthor, there’s your real story. But you’re never going to write it.”

“Don’t be too sure about that,” she told him.

He huffed. “Forget it, Lane. Even if you did write it, they’ll never publish it. You wanna know why that is? Because the bean counters in Washington don’t give a fuck about the real story. Guys like the President don’t give a shit about the kids dying, all in the name of the good ol’ US of A. The only story they want told is that America is winning. We’re not winning. Hell, we’ll be lucky if any of us make it out of this alive.”

With that, he stormed off. Lois was left watching as a helicopter came in for a landing. Two men greeted the pilots and waved toward the bodies. She bit her lip against the threatening tears and started to turn away. She was surprised to see Kent staring back at her with what looked like sympathy in his expression. 

She walked away.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clark and Lois talk.

Clark had watched Lois talk to the lieutenant. He’d seen the anguish in her expression as she took stock of what had happened the night before. He’d wanted to comfort her but after what he’d said to her, he knew she wouldn’t be interested in anything he had to say. 

It was for the best, he thought. It seemed like every time they were around each other, things got out of control. What they’d done the night before was wrong but he still couldn’t help remembering the way it had felt to make love with her. Lois was an incredible woman. She might act tough on the outside but on the inside she was a woman with a deeply sensual nature. 

He returned to helping with the clean-up. Those who hadn’t been injured in the attack were busy pulling away broken boards from the huts that had been damaged by mortar bombs. They didn’t have time to do extensive repairs since they would be leaving on the chopper at dawn the next day. 

If only he was able to work by himself, he thought. He could have done most of the repairs in less than half a day, since he didn’t really need tools. He worked with Bart and AC. Most of the men looked a little worse for wear, especially after getting drunk the night before, but Bart didn’t appear to have a hangover. Arthur had stuck to mostly water.

The lieutenant came over to inspect their work. He was still looking a little rough but Clark figured he should just keep quiet. 

“Take a break,” Oliver said. “Get over to the mess and get something to eat.”

“Sure thing, boss,” Bart replied. He and AC downed tools and headed off to the mess.

As Clark started to walk away, the officer grabbed his arm. 

“Do I need to remind you of the rules about fraternising, Kent?”

He frowned at the man. The brass had warned them about fraternising with the local girls, saying they could possibly be the enemy. Lois wasn’t their enemy. 

“L T?”

“I’m giving you a direct order. Stay away from Lane. For your own good.”

Considering most of it had been Lois refusing to stay away from him, Clark felt the warning was kind of pointless.

“It’s not like I can actually avoid her, Oliver.”

“I told you, she’s trouble.”

He stared at the older officer. “Are you blaming her for what happened last night? This was not her fault!”

“Wasn’t it? Ever since she’s been on this base, she’s been nothing but trouble. You think you’re the only one who’s been drooling over her? I swear, you kids see a pretty pair of tits and a nice pair of legs and you lose all sense.”

Clark stared at him, wondering why the man had worded it in that way. 

“Yeah? And maybe you’re jealous because she barely gives you a second glance unless it’s about some story!” he spat back. 

Oliver glared at him. “That’s insubordination, Kent!”

“How can it be insubordination if it’s true, Queen?” he asked. “You keep talking about her like she’s just some sex object or something. You don’t know anything about her!”

“So you think a roll in the sack makes you an expert on her? I knew you were naïve, Kent, but I didn’t think you were stupid as well!”

“Stop it!”

Clark looked around at Lois. She was staring at them, her expression anguished.

“I could hear you two yelling at each other clear across the compound,” she told them. “So could everyone else on this base.”

Oliver turned to her, his glare hot enough to sear right through her. “You’re getting out of here. I’m going to make sure of it.” He stalked off toward the radio hut. Clark guessed he was going to try to contact HQ. 

Lois grabbed his arm. “Can we talk?” she asked. 

He nodded. “I should get something to eat,” he said. 

She walked with him over toward the mess. “He’s not wrong, you know. What happened last night, it is my fault.”

“No, it’s not,” he said quietly. “It’s unfair of him to blame you.”

“But if I hadn’t got him drunk …”

He stopped just short of the door and looked at her. “Is that what you think? No one can make the lieutenant drink except the lieutenant. I may not have been here that long, but I know that much. There should have been sentries on last night and for some reason there weren’t. That’s why we were taken by surprise. It had nothing to do with you.”

He opened the door and waved her through before entering himself. They each grabbed a tray and lined up for the food. Clark was acutely aware of the stares from the men, who had obviously heard the exchange with the lieutenant. Wanting to avoid another scene, he quietly suggested to Lois that they go talk somewhere else. She glanced at the tables. The men quickly bent their heads, pretending to concentrate on their food.

They left the mess and found a quiet spot on the grass outside. Clark figured it was better than going to either of their quarters, as it would only fuel any rumours. He didn’t know how many of the men knew what had happened before the attack and he wasn’t about to provide confirmation.

Lois picked at her food listlessly. She ate a few bites before putting it down.

“Ugh, I don’t know how you can eat this muck. The army food’s just as bad.”

“I guess so,” he said. His own tray was full of tasteless crap but he ate it anyway. 

“I need to confess something,” Lois said after a long silence. “The poker game … I thought I could get the guys to mention something about the mission.”

Clark nodded. He’d had his suspicions when she had first suggested it. His father had often told stories of his own experiences. He would sometimes have friends over, like Ethan and Jack, and the men would begin telling stories, each getting more outrageous as the games went on. 

“It was about the story,” she said, “but now I think there’s an even bigger story.”

“Is that all this is to you?”

“You don’t know how it is back home, Clark. I have to fight the boys’ club for everything and the only way I can get any respect is to bring in the big stories.” She sighed. “He’s not wrong about that either, you know?”

He frowned at her. “About what?”

“About me using my body to get the story.” She shrugged. “I figured if they’re gonna see me as some kind of sex object then why not use it to get what I want?”

Clark felt a surge of some unnameable emotion. In some way he felt as if she’d used him. 

“So, when you came over to talk last night, were you really there just to explain about what happened with Oliver or were you trying to get information out of me?”

She flushed. “I guess, a little of both. I really meant what I said before though. I didn’t come over with a plan to seduce you or anything. I really don’t do that sort of thing.”

That was the exact opposite of what she’d just told him and he reminded her of that.

“I don’t mean that. I just give them a good eyeful. It’s not like I let them think I’m gonna sleep with them.”

“So why did you do that with me?” he asked. 

She bit her lip. “I don’t know. Why did you let me?”

Touche, he thought. Neither one of them had been thinking straight. He’d been worried about the upcoming mission, wondering how he was going to keep the men safe without exposing his abilities. Then when she’d been in his lap, all he’d been able to think about was the naked woman in his arms. He’d lost all sense of reason. 

“Clark, I know you think I was just using you, but I wasn’t. And last night, you saved my life. I don’t know how you did it without getting hurt, but none of that matters. I know how things are here. When you face death every day, you take every opportunity you can get for happiness. Even if it’s just for a moment. I can’t really explain what happened between us but I do know that there is something there. I do know that if we both make it out of this alive, back to the States, I want …”

A shadow blocked out the sun and they looked up. Oliver stood over them, his face like thunder. 

“I don’t know how you do it, Lane, but the C.O. tells me you’re not getting out of here any time soon.”

“What about the mission?” she asked. “I want to go.”

He glowered at her. “Lane, you try my patience!”

Her stare was unrelenting as she glared back at him. Clark held his breath, watching the two of them glare at each other. 

“All right!” the lieutenant said. “But you’re to stay with the chopper. Understand me?” He looked at Clark. “I’m making you responsible for her! If she disobeys, you’re going on report. Am I making myself clear?”

Clark nodded. “Yes, sir!”

“We leave at 0530,” he said before turning and walking off.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lois is in trouble again.

Lois was only too aware of the glares from the men as she sat beside Clark in the chopper early the next morning. She’d been on the receiving end of those glares for the past few hours. She suspected Oliver had made sure his men would know that he blamed her for the attack. 

As much as she wanted to walk up to the lieutenant and ask him if he thought she had contacted the sappers and told them to attack, she knew it would be counter-productive. 

Those that didn’t think her personally responsible were few. Bart and AC seemed like good guys and Clark had told them everything. Well, everything except what had happened between them in the farmboy’s quarters. Anyone else, she supposed, would have related all the gory details but Clark wasn’t like that. Maybe it was his Kansas upbringing, but she realised he was a decent guy. The kind of guy she had avoided in high school but only because they were too much of a straight-arrow.

Now that she had actually taken the time to get to know him, she could see herself falling in love with him. 

She glanced at him, but he was looking out toward the jungle. She had no idea what he was thinking. His face looked calm but she could tell from the way he tightly held on to his rifle that he was anything but. He was worried. 

She couldn’t talk to him. The noise of the chopper drowned out anything else and she didn’t want to try yelling. She thought about putting a hand on his knee but the men were more likely to misinterpret the action. Especially Oliver. 

She sighed and busied herself with checking her camera, making sure she had a good supply of film. 

She was torn as the chopper began to head down to the peninsula, close to the landing point. On the one hand, she wanted to get a picture of the action but on the other, she didn’t want Clark to be punished because she refused to obey a direct order from the lieutenant. Sticking with the chopper wasn’t going to get her anything except a few shots of the jungle from what she’d seen on the map. 

Clark had told her Oliver’s plan was to break the men up into three units. Clark would lead one, scouting ahead as they made their way to the prison camp, while the two other groups would circle around and flush out the enemy. AC would be going by water and Bart was being sent into the tunnels to blow them. 

One of the men, a black man Lois couldn’t remember the name of, was scanning the area with a pair of binoculars. He pointed something out to his lieutenant and the officer took the binoculars, peering through them. 

The long grass beneath them was flattened in a circle as the chopper descended. Lois took a deep breath, hating the way her stomach felt as if it was plummeting as the aircraft went down. She watched as the lieutenant jumped out, bending low to avoid the rotor blades. He beckoned to his men and they all followed him, gathering a safe distance away.

Lois started to get out herself but the lieutenant stopped her, blocking her from leaving the aircraft. 

“You’re staying with the chopper,” he reminded her. 

It was fairly clear the chopper wasn’t going to be staying put. The pilot was preparing to take off again.

“But … wait a minute!”

“I gave a direct order,” Oliver replied. 

“And last time I checked, I wasn’t a marine, so your orders don’t count. You can’t just …”

“I can,” he said tersely. He pulled away and gestured to the pilot, telling him to take off. 

Lois fumed as the aircraft began to lift in the air once more. It made sense, she thought. Once the enemy soldiers realised what was going on, they would attack the helicopter, and anyone in it. The pilot couldn’t wait around to be shot at. 

As the chopper rose into the air, she thought quickly. She was never going to get the story or any good shots from that position. Not if the bird was circling. The men had already disappeared into the dense vegetation and if she could get what she needed and get back to the chopper without him finding out, Clark wouldn’t have to pay for her disobedience.

An idea popped into her head and she leaned forward and yelled at the pilot.

“Can you let me down?”

He turned his head, frowning at her. “Lieutenant’s orders …”

“I know what the lieutenant’s orders were, but I need to go,” she said, putting a hand on her thigh and making a face. “C’mon. Do you really expect me to just hold it in?”

The pilot looked at the marine manning the gun, cocking an eyebrow. There appeared to be some non-verbal communication going on. Probably something derogatory they were thinking about women in general. 

With a sigh, the pilot descended, about a hundred or so yards from where he’d originally landed, hovering a few feet in the air. Lois jumped out, running toward the bush. She ducked down as if preparing to take a leak. 

Suddenly there was the sound of firing from what seemed to be a short distance away. Lois heard several shots hit the fuselage of the still-hovering chopper. She froze. She couldn’t see who was firing but if she started to run toward the helicopter, they might see her and turn on her. 

The marine manning the gun began firing back, which prompted more firing from the enemy. There was no way, even if she wanted to, that she could turn back. Not if she didn’t want to get hit. The only way to get out of this was for her to keep moving and keep her head down. 

The men in the helicopter must have come to the same conclusion as it once more rose into the air. There was no other choice now, she thought.

She ran in the direction the men had headed, trying to remember everything she had seen on the map. While she didn’t have a photographic memory, she had learned how to read maps. She had also learned rudimentary survival skills. It wouldn’t be easy in this case since most of the land looked pretty much the same but she figured if she kept in roughly the right direction toward the location of the prison camp she would come across either the men or the camp. 

“Should have grabbed a gun,” she told herself.

It wasn’t that she wanted to kill any of the Vietnamese people. She and Clark had spent the rest of the previous day together just talking. He’d told her how much the killing sickened him.

“But you signed up for this,” she reminded him.

He nodded. “Yeah, but I kind of hoped I could help stop people dying, not actually kill them. I know I’ve got no choice. If I don’t shoot them, they’ll shoot me, or someone else. It doesn’t make me feel any better though.”

“I know what you mean. I look at my dad sometimes and, yeah, he’s a hero and everything but I wonder how he manages it. I think about my mom and what she had to do to deal with him when he came home for a furlough.”

They’d talked about other things. Clark had told her he also wanted to work for a newspaper in the big city. He loved his parents but he didn’t want to spend the rest of his life being a farmer. He felt he was meant for more than that. 

She felt the same way about her job. 

“The guys in the bullpen always look at me like I’m just some little girl without a brain in my head. I don’t want to be just a reporter, Clark. I want to be the best reporter on that paper. I want to prove to them that just because I’m a woman it doesn’t mean I’m not capable of getting the big stories. I want the work I do to mean something. I don’t want to just report the news. I …” She trailed off, not really sure how to explain her passion. She wanted to make a difference, no matter how small. 

“I know you’ll be a great reporter some day, Lois,” Clark said.

She smiled at him. “How do you know?”

“I saw you earlier, when you were talking to Oliver about what happened. I saw the look on your face. You care. That’s what separates you from the men. To them, it’s just a story, but for you it’s about making a difference. That’s what I like about you.”

She smiled as she remembered that conversation. Clark was the sweetest guy she’d ever known. Not only that, he believed in her. Sure, they hadn’t had the best start, but she’d initially viewed him the same way she looked at every other man. As someone she needed to put on a mask with. As if that tough façade could protect her from being hurt. 

With him, she knew she could be herself, let herself be vulnerable and he would never use it against her. 

She heard the sound of someone talking and ducked down behind some dense vegetation. Three Vietnamese soldiers, looking as if they were on patrol, passed by her hiding place. She held her breath, hoping they wouldn’t see her. Her heart was pounding, beating so hard she feared they would hear it. 

Thankfully, the men didn’t see her and moved on without even looking in her direction. She waited until she felt it was safe and began moving again, running through the long grass. 

She spotted the river and knew AC and a couple of others would be making their way upstream. The prison was located roughly half a mile from the river, if the map was right. The men had landed about five or six miles south west of the location and it would be about a two-hour hike. That was if they didn’t run into any patrols.

She figured if she started following the river upstream herself, she would at least be able to get close to the action, with any luck, without being detected. 

She slowed down to a fast walk, knowing she had to pace herself. She figured since she was on her own, she would have a good chance of getting to the location not long after the men. 

The sound of voices speaking in Vietnamese had her looking desperately for somewhere to hide. The grass was dense, but nowhere near as tall as the grass she’d hidden behind earlier. 

Lois’ heart sank as three men holding rifles spotted her in her hiding place. They began shouting at her in a language she couldn’t understand, gesturing with their guns. Her heart pounding, fear tasting like bile in her mouth, she swallowed and raised her hands. 

One of the men grabbed her arm and pulled her to her feet, pushing her ahead of him. The two others began walking in a north east direction. At least they were going the right way, she thought. 

She found herself thinking about Clark and how he’d managed to save her from the mortar bomb night before last. She still wondered how he’d been able to avoid the shrapnel when she’d been hit herself. As much as she wanted to believe it had just been pure luck, she had the feeling there was far more to it than that. 

What puzzled her was that the lieutenant, clearly a man who cared about his men’s welfare, was so willing to put Clark in the firing line, so to speak, by making him scout ahead. Being a scout would mean he would be the first to run into trouble. Did Oliver know something that she didn’t? 

Whatever the reason, she just wished he was here with her now. She had got herself into a real mess. If there had been only one armed man, she might have had a chance of getting out of it herself, but not three. 

The only thing she could do was bide her time and hope she could figure a way out of this before they got to the prison camp.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I gather it would be unusual for a reporter to go along on a mission like this, but as I mentioned when I first started this, it follows along the same lines as the Quantum Leap episode (season 3, episode 2) and the reporter did go along. That's pretty much where the similarity ends. As for Lois doing what she does - she's Lois. No surprises there.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clark is torn between helping Lois and carrying out the mission

Clark walked through the vegetation, his rifle slung loosely on his back. He could hear Oliver and the other men in the unit a few hundred yards behind him. They were already panting, unable to take the heat, or the humidity. The sun always rose early and the mornings were rarely cool. 

He tuned out his group and let his super hearing pick up the sounds around them. He wasn’t sure how far away Bart was, but he was able to hear small explosions from the tunnels as they blew. 

He had no idea if there were any VC soldiers inside those tunnels and the thought of men being killed in those explosions made him sick to his stomach. He knew when he’d signed up to come to Vietnam that he would have to shoot people. As he’d told Lois, he didn’t see that he had a choice. They’d taught him in basic training that it was kill or be killed.

What really galled was that some of the enemy soldiers he’d come across had been younger even than him. Kids who should have been in school, rather than learning to fight with guns. 

There had to be a better way, he thought.

At least he could say he had served his adopted country. He’d heard of kids who had decided to run away to Canada to avoid the draft. Oliver had even said that with the money he’d inherited from his parents he could easily have bought his way out of serving. When he’d talked about Lex, the guy they were going to free from the VC prison camp, Oliver had expected Lex’s father to have done the same. Despite the fact Lionel had served in World War Two. 

Then again, his father had told him that Lionel had been the kind of man who liked to test the soldiers he commanded by forcing them into what Jonathan had considered untenable situations. 

He’d told Lois when he finished his tour he wanted to go work for a newspaper in the city. Given everything Chloe had told him about the Daily Planet, he hoped they would hire him. He didn’t care that he might have to start at the bottom. At least he would be able to hear anything that went on in the city. He wanted to be able to use his abilities in a more constructive way. 

That was still some time in the future. He had no idea how long he was supposed to serve for. Maybe a year, maybe eighteen months. Anything could happen in that time. He had to focus on the here and now. 

His hearing picked up the sound of soldiers on foot. He could hear the slight clink as the rifles they were carrying hit something on their clothing, the brush of cloth. Unlike the uniforms the Marines were expected to wear, this sounded rougher somehow. More like the linen tunics the Vietnamese soldiers wore. He could also hear the sound of the shoes the men wore. Again, nothing like the boots their unit had been assigned. Yet there was something else. A sound he couldn’t quite identify.

He scanned the area, using his enhanced visual senses to see if he could spot anything within the vicinity. He saw Oliver and the other men but didn’t see the soldiers. They were probably a good mile away. At least they weren’t likely to catch the marines, he thought. He was about to resume walking when he heard a feminine voice groaning. 

Lois! He would know that sound anywhere.

Clark homed in on the woman’s heartbeat. It was beating at almost double the normal rate. Either she was running or she was afraid. 

He was in a quandary. He couldn’t just disappear to go rescue her. For one thing, he had no idea what he would be facing, and second, Oliver wasn’t that far behind him. His disappearance wouldn’t go unnoticed by his unit’s leader, no matter how fast he was. 

He was sure Lois had started to analyse what had happened the night of the attack and, knowing how smart she was, there was no way she wouldn’t have figured there was something different about him. After all, she had got hit by shrapnel and logic would have told her that he should have been hit worse, instead of escaping unscathed.

If she saw him when he went to save her from whatever mess she was in, it wouldn’t be long before she would put two and two together. 

So much for her staying with the chopper, he thought with a long-suffering sigh. Oliver was going to be furious. 

Clark had tried to tell him that it wouldn’t do any good to make him responsible for her. There was the mission for one, he’d said. He couldn’t exactly do his job and watch out for her at the same time.

Oliver hadn’t cared. He’d been so furious at the Colonel’s insistence that Lane be allowed to join them on the mission that he hadn’t wanted to hear any arguments to the contrary. He really should have known that Lois would try to find some way around it. Maybe Clark didn’t know her all that well, but he knew enough. 

He listened a little more. While she sounded afraid, he didn’t think she was in any danger, as long as she didn’t do something stupid, like try to run. That would just get her shot. If she had been captured, the worst they would do was take her to the prison camp for questioning. He doubted they would shoot a woman. Or rather, hoped they wouldn’t. He sincerely hoped they had a little more decency than that. 

He returned his focus to his task. By his calculations they shouldn’t be too far from the camp. He continued walking, listening for the sounds of guards. He scanned the area once more and spotted the camp about half a mile away, downhill. 

He took out the small radio he’d been supplied.

“Kent, reporting in. Over.”

“What do you got, Kent? Over.”

“I think we’re close, sir,” he said. He told his senior officer he could see the camp.

“Hang tight, Kid. Take cover.”

He got down behind some bushes, waiting for the rest of the group. He continued to listen in, checking on Lois as well as the other men. Bart and AC seemed to be okay. Lois’ heartbeat was still fast, but strong. 

It was a few minutes before he heard the group coming up behind him. Oliver quietly gave orders to the rest of the men to fan out and scan the area. The lieutenant moved beside him, taking out a pair of binoculars. 

“How many men?” he asked.

“I count about a dozen, sir,” Clark said, opting to stick with protocol. He was already in the lieutenant’s bad books over what had happened with Lois. There was no need to aggravate the man further. 

“Hey LT,” another of the men called. 

“What is it, Bishop?”

Oliver trained his binoculars on to where Bishop was pointing and made a disgusted sound. Clark followed the gaze and sighed. Lois. She was walking with three VC soldiers. He could see from the expression on her face that she was desperately trying to think of some way out of the predicament. 

He glanced at the senior officer. The man was flushed with anger. 

“Goddamn woman!” he growled. He looked at Clark. “You’re going on report, Kent.”

In for a penny, in for a pound, Clark thought. 

“C’mon Lieutenant. You don’t know what happened. What if the chopper …”

It was a possibility, he thought. The chopper could have been fired upon and forced down. Lois could have been captured then. 

“Don’t care! I didn’t invite her on this trip.”

It obviously wasn’t going to make a single bit of difference to the man. As far as he was concerned, Clark was guilty and that was that. 

Still, this wasn’t the time or the place for an argument over Lois. Clark returned his attention to the camp, scanning for the prisoners. He nudged his lieutenant, who once again trained his binoculars on the small collection of huts. Most of them were run down, confirming their intel that the camp had once been a village. All the huts had been built adjacent so they stood in a circle. In the middle of that circle was some kind of construction which allowed the guards to hang bamboo cages. 

There were three prisoners. One of them was bald, another was blond and the third had brown hair. All three were badly sunburnt, with sores all over their bodies from insect bites and exposure to the elements. They were more than likely to have malaria, having been denied the pills they needed to protect them against the disease. 

“LT?” The radio signal man crouched beside the older man. “Allen reports all tunnels clear and Curry has all his guys in place.”

Oliver nodded. “All right. Tell them we go in five.” He turned to Clark. “Take Bishop and get Lane the fuck out of there. Leave the prisoners to us.” Clark started to get up but the lieutenant grabbed his arm. “And Kent? None of your ideas about not killing. You see Charlie, you shoot to kill. That’s an order.”

Clark bit his lip, but nodded. There was no other choice and he knew it. They weren’t likely to show him any mercy and if he hesitated, Lois could be the one paying the price. He couldn’t just let an innocent girl be killed just because of his principles. 

He continued to watch, worried as Lois was led into the prison camp. The bald prisoner, lying on the floor of his cage, lifted his head weakly as they passed. There was a moment when Clark thought he saw shock in the man’s expression. 

Lois must have said something or done something one of the soldiers didn’t like as the man struck her with the butt of his rifle before pushing her toward the only hut that appeared to be intact. Clark barely remembered they were supposed to be laying low for a few more minutes. 

Bishop crawled on his belly toward him and pushed back his helmet.

“Kent,” he said in a loud whisper. “What the fuck you doing?”

He ignored the man and turned back to watch the scene unfold, thinking quickly. There was no way he could use his speed, unless he did so during the fighting. 

The lieutenant gave the signal and the two other groups began firing on the camp, providing cover for the lieutenant and the men as they ran to free the prisoners. The Vietnamese soldiers caught on quickly, returning fire and moving to block the men from getting to the three Americans.

Clark began moving down the hill, aware of the other man running down behind him. Bishop was a shorter man and thus had shorter strides, meaning he had to run twice as fast as Clark to keep up. Clark fired wildly as he ran, doing his best to keep from hitting the enemy soldiers, figuring he could just knock them unconscious as he charged. Bishop also began firing, his aim slightly better. Two of the men went down, but it wasn’t clear whose shots had hit whom.

He looked over to the hut. The two men who had taken Lois inside had dragged her out again, probably thinking they could use her as a hostage in order to stop the attack. Her lip was bleeding and she had one hell of a bruise starting to appear on one side of her head. The men pushed her to her knees on the ground and aimed handguns at her head. She looked terrified. 

There was a yell behind him and he looked around. Bishop had been shot. Clark ran back to his companion and quickly checked him. He had a wound in his thigh and another in his shoulder, not far from the carotid artery from what Clark could tell. The other man waved him away. 

“Go!” Bishop told him. “Get the girl!”

“You’re hurt,” he said. 

“Fuck that! It’s just a flesh wound. I’ll cover you. Just go, you idiot!”

Clark wanted to argue with his fallen comrade but Bishop was insistent. He nodded and turned back, running toward the camp. He fired several shots at the feet of the two men about to shoot Lois, hoping the others hadn’t seen the way he’d deliberately missed. He took the chance that Bishop might be in too much pain to believe his own eyes and fired a blast of heat vision at the two guns, forcing the men to drop them. 

Lois appeared to have the presence of mind to realise the soldiers were now unarmed and she struggled to her feet, punching one of them hard in the face. She started to turn toward the other man, who was backing away, holding his hand and yelling as if he’d burnt it. 

Before Clark could get to the reporter, another soldier opened fire. He put on a burst of speed and managed to get to her before the bullet hit. It bounced off his own body as he tackled her to the ground. She blinked, staring up at him with a confused frown. 

He saw Oliver and some others moving to release Luthor and the two other prisoners. There was another burst of enemy fire and Oliver fell. Along with Luthor.

Without hesitating, Clark scooped Lois up in his arms and ran with her to where Bishop lay. The other man was still firing on the camp. The Vietnamese soldiers appeared to be coming from all directions but the marine had managed to get himself behind what appeared to be an old cart of some description. The wood was rotten in some places and had a few holes, but it was good enough. 

He laid Lois down on the grass beside the wounded marine, her body hidden from the view of the enemy.

“Stay put!” he told her. 

She looked too shell-shocked to even argue. He glanced once more at Bishop, alarmed to see blood had spread, staining the man’s shirt. He guessed he was losing a lot of blood and had no idea how the other man still managed to stay conscious. Again his comrade waved him away, clearly determined to complete his mission.

Clark ran back to his lieutenant amid a barrage of enemy fire. Somewhere the Vietnamese soldiers had managed to get hold of a mortar and had set it up, sending bombs into the mix. They didn’t appear to be concerned that some of their own men were also falling. 

A mortar exploded near him, kicking up dirt and dust in his face. He continued running, using his hearing to help him detect another one coming. He had no sooner reached Luthor when he heard another one. He threw himself over the two men as the bomb hit the ground and exploded almost in his face. 

As Clark lifted his head, he saw shock in the bald man’s expression. 

“That thing just exploded and you …”

He had no time to argue with Luthor. He pulled the man up and laid him over his shoulder. He started to turn to help Oliver, but the lieutenant shook his head. 

“Don’t worry about me, Kent!” he said. “Just get Luthor out of here.”

Clark carried the former prisoner up the hill. As he laid the man down, he noticed that AC was helping the lieutenant. The two men stumbled up the hill together. Oliver had one hand pressed to his side, blood already staining his shirt. His face was white with shock but he was conscious at least.

AC laid the lieutenant down on the grass and yelled for the medic. The other men were scrambling to help the wounded, even as those still standing continued firing on the enemy.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lois proves she is more than just a reporter

Lois took little time to recover from the shock. Despite the pounding migraine she now had from being cold-cocked by the soldier, she sat up. She looked around for the medic, aware that the man beside her was running mostly on adrenaline. There was a growing bloodstain on his shirt, a sure sign that it was more than a flesh wound. 

There was another explosion but Lois guessed from the size of it that it had just been a grenade. The dirt kicked up in the middle of three Vietnamese soldiers firing toward them. 

Clark was suddenly there, dropping a man by her side. Lois looked at the man and realised it was Lex. He looked stunned to see her.

“Lois? What the hell are you doing here?”

“Never mind that!” she told him. “Are you hurt?”

“Only my pride,” he said wryly. “Never mind me. The other two …”

“They’re coming,” Clark said. 

Lois bit her lip and looked at the Kansas farmboy. She pulled his arm.

“It’s Bishop,” she said quietly. “He’s bleeding badly.”

Clark nodded, looking over toward the marine. She frowned. The wounded man was barely upright. As they watched, he dropped his gun and fell. She started to get up to go to him but a hand on her arm stopped her.

“The soldiers …”

She looked down to the old village. The marines had taken over the village. Any enemy soldier still standing was running off, taking any wounded who were still able with them.

“They’re running.”

Clark shook his head. “They’ll be back with reinforcements.” He looked at AC, who was tending to Oliver. “How bad is it?” he asked.

“He got hit in the gut, but he’ll be okay if we can get him to the medics.”

The unit’s medic ran over to them. “Chopper will be here soon. How bad?”

AC repeated what he’d told Clark. Lois glanced at the medic, then nodded her head toward Bishop. 

“He looks bad. I can help. My dad taught me how to do field dressings.”

The medic nodded. Clark looked at her but didn’t utter a word in protest as she went to help the other man. They bent over Bishop, who was conscious but just barely. He’d been hit twice, one in the thigh and the other in his shoulder. It was no wonder he’d almost passed out, she thought. 

“He’s lost a lot of blood,” the blond medic told her, handing her some cotton pads. “Press that to the wound and try to stop the bleeding.”

She set to the task, concentrating on what she needed to do. The man turned to help Oliver, whose wound was serious but not life-threatening from what she could tell. He was already grousing loudly that he had better things to do than lay there while Clark and the medic tended to him. 

Lex appeared to be laying back with his eyes closed. Lois noticed he was terribly thin, almost emaciated. 

Those men who had done what they needed to do were watching them. Some were smoking cigarettes but none of them were talking. The silence was almost eerie. She was too focused on what she had to do to count the men but she was sure at least one or two hadn’t made it back. 

The sound of the chopper coming in was loud, breaking the silence. The men quickly gathered, helping to get the wounded on the chopper. She had no idea if they were going to go back for those who hadn’t made it. She wondered if their families would ever know the truth. 

She felt sick inside as she sat in the chopper. Clark was silent next to her, staring out at the scenery as it passed by. Not that they could see much. It was all a blur. 

She stared down at her hands. They were stained red from Bishop’s blood. He’d been taken on another helicopter to an aid station where the medics would do what they could to help him. Oliver had also been transported out. The two prisoners, who appeared to be in worse condition than Lex, had gone with them. Lex had refused.

By the time they reached the base, the sun was beginning to set. Lois turned to go to her quarters. Her head was throbbing and she was sure she had the makings of a black eye but she didn’t care. All she wanted to do was lie down on her bunk and forget this day had ever happened. 

She had no sooner closed the door behind her when there was a gentle knock. She knew who it was before she even opened the door.

Clark didn’t say a word. He just wrapped his arms around her and held her. As much as she tried to fight it, she couldn’t. The dam burst and she sobbed in his arms. It was a long time before they separated. 

He gently brushed her hair back from her face and led her over to the bunk to sit down.

“You should get the medic to look at that,” he said, lightly touching the bruise on her face.

“I’m fine,” she said. 

“No, you’re not.”

Neither was he, she wanted to say. She knew Clark was devastated by how badly things had gone. Sure, they had managed to get the prisoners back but the mission was still a failure as far as she was concerned. 

“I hate this war,” she said with a sigh. 

“I know.”

“This is all my fault.”

“You don’t know that.”

“It is. If I hadn’t left the chopper …”

“It doesn’t matter,” he said.

“But Oliver …”

“Oliver would have found some other reason to get mad at me. He does it to every new guy. Or so Bart told me. It’s how he gets them to toughen up.”

“You shouldn’t have to,” she argued. “You shouldn’t even have had to come here at all! This stupid war doesn’t make any sense. Guys are dying every day and for what?” She huffed. “I think I get what Oliver was trying to tell me before. This is nothing to do with fighting for your country. Defending against communism, or whatever. That’s what they don’t want people to know.”

Oliver was right. Even if she did write the story, it would never be published. No one wanted to hear the truth about the war.

She’d been wrong about so many things. She’d hoped by coming here that she could get a story that would make her career. Yet when she had the perfect opportunity she had let it slip through her fingers. Deliberately. She knew she could have taken photographs of the men as their wounds were tended to. It would have been a good story, showing the stark reality of the cost of war. But she’d chosen not to. It had just seemed wrong.

“What will you do now?” Clark asked.

“I don’t know. Go back home. Grow up and try to remember what I went into journalism for.”

“And what’s that?” he asked, although she’d already told him the answer.

“To tell people’s stories. Not to win prizes. To make a difference.”

He kissed her cheek. She tried for a smile but it was weak. He squeezed her hand.

“Come on. Let’s go have a drink at the Officer’s Club.”

She bit her lip. “I don’t know. They probably won’t want me …”

“You’ll be with me,” he said. “I don’t care what anyone says. If they give you any trouble, they can answer to me.”

She found herself chuckling at the stern expression on his face. “You are forceful, aren’t you?”

He grinned back at her. “I grew up on a farm. Trust me, when you’re shovelling shit, you learn fast how to deal with it.”

Her laugh was even more genuine. “You are one of a kind, Smallville,” she said, pressing close to him as he helped her to her feet. 

She walked with him to the Officer’s Club. The men were quieter than usual. Their normal banter was gone, replaced by a sombre mood. Yet they didn’t appear to be hostile toward her. 

One of the men offered her a beer. “Medics said Bishop’s got a good chance of making it,” he said. “Saw what you did for him. You’re all right, Lane.”

Clark nudged her and smiled, taking her hand to lead her to a table. 

“Told you it would be okay,” he said.

She smiled back at him, feeling better already. “Yeah, you did.”

Lex was sitting in the corner of the club, nursing what appeared to be a scotch. She frowned, wondering if the man should be drinking in his state. He turned his head, his grey-blue eyes weary as he looked at her. She turned away to look at Clark, talking quietly. 

“Lois.”

She looked up and nodded at Lex. “Hello, Lex.” He was staring intently at her companion even as he began talking to her.

“I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised to see you here. I always knew you had balls.”

Well, congratulations, she thought. She didn’t like the way he kept staring at Clark. 

“You would be Kent,” Lex said.

“Yes, I am. How are you doing, Mr Luthor?”

“It’s Lieutenant. I assume I still hold some rank.”

“I expect so.”

Lex peered at him keenly, as if he was examining him.

“I’m curious about something. Tell me, how is it you can survive a mortar explosion and not even have a scratch on you?”

Clark shrugged. “Just lucky, I guess,” he said. 

Lois glanced at him. She too wondered how he could have taken most of the impact from the mortar, thrown himself on top of the two men, and still survived to tell the tale. Then again, how had he managed to get to her so quickly and avoid bullets flying everywhere at the same time. 

It was just one of those many oddities she’d noticed about him in the past few days. As much as she wanted to ask him about it, she decided she would rather wait until he volunteered the information. Lex, on the other hand, would be the type of man who wouldn’t let it go. She’d seen it before. He hated mysteries and would use everything he had to get the answers. He’d been stalked once by someone who had turned out to be the doppelganger of a dead man. Lex had gone as far as hiring a private investigator to find out who the double was. When he’d discovered who was really behind the stalking, he’d destroyed the other man’s life. 

“I see,” Lex said coolly. 

“Is that all you wanted?” Lois asked, just as coolly. “Because we’re just having a quiet drink here.”

He didn’t look happy at her response but Lois didn’t care. She’d begun to realise toward the end of her relationship with the bald man that he was dangerous. He cared little about others and tended to use them for his own purposes. He was determined to be better than his father. Rather like the stories he was fond of quoting of Alexander the Great, he planned on not only returning to Metropolis at the head of his own army but he also planned to be even more ruthless than Lionel. Even if he had to create his own company to do it, he would ensure the name Lex Luthor would be even more infamous than Lionel.

Lex tried to ask more questions but they chose to ignore them, quickly changing the subject. Lois knew the only way to get rid of him was to start asking him questions about his experience as a prisoner.

“Is this for a story?” he asked snidely. He’d always been rather disdainful about her choice of occupation.

“Well, I am a reporter,” she replied. 

He walked away in disgust. She turned to Clark with a shrug. 

“Finally got rid of him,” she said. 

“You used to date that guy?” Clark asked.

She scowled. “Yeah. Worst mistake I ever made.”

“What was he like? Really?”

“Really? Kind of intense, I guess. He was more interested in talking about himself, although he’d talk more about things like Alexander the Great and he’d compare himself to him. Ever notice that some people use stuff like that rather than talk about personal stuff?”

“Yeah, I do. Sometimes I think that just means they’re hiding something they don’t like about themselves. My dad has this friend. They were both serving in Europe in WW Two. Anyway, Dad was telling me this story about how his buddy was always playing practical jokes on the other guys and when he wasn’t doing that he was telling jokes. Chloe said she thought the guy was masking some kind of insecurity.”

She bit her lip. It was the first time Chloe had been mentioned since the night they’d had sex. She still felt a little weird about that. She was very attracted to him and would have slept with him again in a heartbeat, if things hadn’t gone so badly that day. It felt wrong to have sex with a guy just to forget all the terrible things that she’d seen. Especially someone she was having very strong feelings for.

“About Chloe …”

“You’re worried about what she might say about us. Lois, we broke up months ago.”

“I know, but … she is my cousin. There’s sort of a girl code, and I’ve broken every bit of it.”

“You weren’t exactly thinking straight at the time. You had had a lot to drink.”

She shook her head. It was no excuse. She might have been drunk, but she had known what she was doing when she’d had sex with him. 

“I’m sorry,” she said. “For pushing you into …”

He huffed. “You think you pushed me into having sex with you? I may have been a virgin, Lois, but I still knew what I was doing. You didn’t make me do anything I didn’t want to do.”

“It’s just … I don’t know. I feel … guilty, somehow. Like I betrayed Chloe.”

“What is this girl code you mentioned?”

“You don’t date your best friend’s ex. It works for siblings as well and Chloe …”

“You’re that close?” he asked.

She nodded. “Yeah. I mean, there’s only a year between us and we used to spend summers together. Before my mom died we always used to go stay with Aunt Moira and Uncle Gabe. After … well, my dad would send me to stay with them. At least until I was about thirteen. It’s sort of how I got interested in journalism.” She laughed ruefully. “Chloe would always drag me out to help her with some story. I used to hate it but then I started to like it.” 

She smiled fondly, remembering her cousin’s infectious enthusiasm. 

Clark smiled. “You care about her a lot.”

“Yeah.”

“It was sort of the same with us. I’d never given journalism much thought until I met Chloe. Even in eighth grade she was always sniffing out a story.”

“And you had no choice but to go along with it.”

Clark grinned. “You and Chloe are a lot alike. You both have … um, forceful personalities.”

“Is that a bad thing?” she asked.

“No,” he replied, shaking his head. “I like it. I like it very much.”

She found herself staring into his beautiful green eyes, mesmerised by his gaze. He really was a beautiful man. It was sometimes hard to believe he was only eighteen – there were moments when he seemed much older. Whether it was the way he carried himself or the way he looked, she didn’t know. What she did know was that she liked it very much. 

She became aware of the need to be alone with him. They were sitting so close together she knew the men would talk. If she kissed him, the way she wanted to, he would never hear the end of it. 

Clark seemed to be thinking the same thing. He took her hand and helped her up. They left the bar together and walked slowly back to her quarters. She paused at the door and turned to him. 

“Clark …”

“I know,” he said softly. 

She pressed her lips to his. Clark wrapped his arms around her, holding her close as their kiss became passionate. She felt for the door with one hand and pushed it open, stumbling back, almost tripping in her haste to get inside. 

How they managed to get to the bed without falling was something she would never know but as they lay together on the narrow cot, still kissing, she didn’t care. All she cared about was him. She smelled the earthy scent beneath the smokiness, could taste the saltiness in his skin. 

“Smallville,” she whispered.

He paused and lifted his head. “Why Smallville?” he asked.

She grinned. “Please, I couldn’t make that name up. Besides, it gets you all riled up.”

“You love to tease, don’t you, Lane?” he said.

She laughed. “You’re going to have to do better than that, Smallville. It takes a lot to get me riled up.”

His grin in reply was wicked. “Really? Well, I guess I’ve got my work cut out for me then.” He slid his hand down her body and cupped her sex through the shorts she wore. Just the brush of his hand was enough to get her heart pumping. 

“Don’t you dare!” she hissed. 

“Don’t you know never to dare a guy?” he returned.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clark and Lois have to say goodbye

Clark was surprised when she pushed his hand away. 

“You make me forget myself,” she said. 

He had the impression she was still feeling some guilt about her cousin. He didn’t know much about the ‘girl code’ but he had decided that feeling guilty wasn’t going to change what had already happened between them. He was extremely attracted to her and hoped when his tour was over he could build something with her, but he wasn’t going to spend whatever time they had left in Vietnam together feeling bad because he’d dated her cousin. He still cared about Chloe and always would, but their relationship had changed.

He tried to explain that to her. Lois sighed.

“I know what you’re trying to say and I know it sounds like I’m backpedalling. I just don’t want to get carried away. I’ve had so many bad relationships, but I feel like you’re the one I want to get it right with.”

“Lo …”

“I know. I mean, I’m only here for maybe a few more days and then I’ll probably either get sent to some other base or back to the States. And you don’t know how long you’ll be here. You could get wounded or, or worse. If there’s one thing I know from losing my mom so young, it’s that nobody’s immortal.”

He nodded. Maybe he didn't know the full truth about his own heritage. As a child, he'd wondered what had happened to cause his birth parents to leave him alone but as time had passed, and he'd learned how he had come to Earth, he had realised that there was every possibility they were lost out there somewhere. Or else dead. Knowing that there was no one else like him had made for a lonely adolescence. There had been moments in the past few days when he’d seen that Lois felt just as alone and he knew exactly what she was trying to say. 

Coming to Vietnam to fight in a war that he didn’t really understand, seeing innocent lives snuffed out for no real reason, had made him realise that when he found something that gave him hope for the future, he needed to grab onto it. 

Lois went on. “I know we didn’t exactly get off to a great start, but, could we … I mean, can we … I just want you to hold me.”

He nodded again. Lois took off her shorts and changed her shirt, putting on a loose t-shirt that did nothing for her figure. Clark stripped off his own shirt and the pants he had worn, leaving only the shorts he’d worn underneath. 

They lay together on the narrow bunk. Lois rolled onto her side, her back facing him. He spooned against her, wrapping his arms around her. 

“Good night,” she said softly.

He pressed a gentle kiss to her cheek. “Good night, Lois,” he returned. 

He left her sleeping in the early dawn, knowing the men would want him to brag about his ‘conquest’. He didn’t want to do that to Lois. For all her apparent toughness, when it came to human emotions, she was as vulnerable as every other girl. Maybe more so, he thought.

As he headed to breakfast that morning, Lex Luthor fell into step with him.

“May I join you?” the bald man asked.

Clark frowned at him, wondering why he hadn’t left the camp, since he probably needed to be debriefed by the brass. 

“How can I help you, Lieutenant?” he asked.

“Please. Call me Lex,” the other man said with a smile. It reminded Clark of a predator. He’d seen pictures of predators in the wild and they always had a kind of feral grin which had scared him when he was younger. 

“All right. Lex. What can I do for you?”

“You never answered my questions last night,” he said.

“What questions were those?” Clark asked, opting to play dumb. 

“I think you know. That bomb went off practically in your face, yet you don’t even have a scratch. Or a bruise.”

“I don’t know what to tell you, Lex. I guess I just got lucky.”

“I don’t think luck had anything to do with it.” Lex stopped walking and leaned closer. “Look, I know of some people back in the States. They would be very interested in this.”

Clark sighed and shook his head. His parents had always warned him about exposing his abilities. He’d done his best to make it appear that he was just the same as all the other marines but if Lex was asking questions, he might start doing some digging. Who knew what he would uncover?

“Clark.” Lois smiled at him. She was holding two trays filled with scrambled eggs and toast. “I got you breakfast.”

He smiled back at her, relieved at the interruption. “Thanks,” he said. He turned back to Lex. “Like I said, Lieutenant, I really don’t know what to tell you.”

The other man frowned at him but didn’t argue as Lois led him away. He sat down with Lois. Bart and AC were already at the table, their plates almost empty. 

“I thought you needed rescuing,” Lois said in a low voice. “Lex can get kind of obsessed about things.”

“I noticed,” he said quietly. He glanced over and saw the bald man talking to the Colonel. Neither man looked happy. 

Clark decided to eavesdrop on the conversation. 

“They want you in Saigon at HQ for a debriefing.”

“I would rather stay here.”

“Those orders come from high-up, Lieutenant. You’re on the next transpo out of here and that’s an order.”

“I told you, I have some things I need to …”

“Am I not making myself clear? You’re going! The transport will be leaving in an hour and you better be on it or you’re going on report!”

Lois touched his arm. “You okay? You seem a little distracted.”

He nodded. “I’m fine. Just miles away, I guess.”

She didn’t look as if she believed him, but was letting it slide.

“Yeah. By the way. Thanks. For last night, I mean.”

He knew she wasn’t just talking about the night before in the Officer’s Club. She didn’t appear too upset about the way he had left early that morning. 

AC smiled at her. “So, Lois, where do you think they’ll send you next?”

“I don’t know.”

The colonel approached their table. Everyone present looked up at the base commander. 

“Miss Lane, you better finish your breakfast and go pack. You’re due back in Saigon. The next transport is leaving in an hour.”

She looked at Clark as the colonel turned away, her expression suggesting she wasn’t happy at this news. Clark shrugged and smiled at her. They’d known it would happen, but he hadn’t expected it to be so soon either 

As soon as breakfast was over, he followed her back to her quarters. She pulled him inside, wrapping her arms around his neck.

“I don’t want to go,” she said with a sigh. “I feel like I’m just getting to know you.”

He kissed her gently. “We can still write.”

She sighed. A myriad of emotions crossed her face, as if there were so many things she wanted to say but couldn’t.

“I guess. It’s just … I’m scared for you, Clark. Lord knows what you’ll have to face out here. I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to you.”

“I’ll try not to let that happen,” he said. 

“You can’t make promises like that,” she replied. 

He knew no matter what he said, she wouldn’t feel reassured. He kissed her again and stood by as she packed her meagre belongings in a duffel bag. She was ready a few minutes before the jeep arrived to drive her and Lex to the city.

She pressed a kiss to his cheek as she got in the jeep.

“Take care of yourself,” she said. “Promise you’ll write.”

“I promise,” he replied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will post the epilogue in a minute or two. Let's just say the epilogue will provide some closure.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue - Five Years Later

Lois Lane had been pursuing a story on District Attorney Ray Sacks for months. She knew the man was dirty and he knew that she knew. Proving it was another matter. Today, however, she hoped would be her lucky day. She had followed Sacks and one of his henchmen, for lack of a better word, to a meeting in Suicide Slum. 

Sacks was a handsome man with wavy, dark blond hair. He ignored the styles of the day and had adopted his own look which appeared to appeal to the public who continued to believe he could do no wrong. Lois had met the man months earlier at a ball being hosted by a former lover and had quickly realised the man’s charm was nothing more than a mask.

Much the same as Lex, she thought darkly as she hid behind some crates in a warehouse. What was it with criminals that they tended to meet in old warehouses? she asked herself. 

She found herself thinking about the bald billionaire. Lex Luthor had returned from Vietnam four and a half years earlier with a ruthless intent to not only beat his father in business but to crush him. He’d formed his own corporation, LexCorp, and begun buying up companies left, right and centre until, eventually, Lionel had slunk away with his tail between his legs, so to speak.

Lionel had been killed in a plane crash on a flight to the south of France, where he was supposed to have gone to retire. Lois had her suspicions about that crash, but had never been able to prove that Lex had been behind it.

He asked her sometimes about the events that had taken place that awful day in Vietnam. She knew he was curious about a few things but she had never told him the true nature of her relationship with Clark Kent. As far as she was concerned, what she had shared with the Kansas farmboy was private. Anything she had seen or heard about him in that time was no one’s business but his.

She sighed, returning her attention to the conversation between Sacks and a man she knew was working for Intergang. The criminal organisation was run by Morgan Edge, who, it turned out, had been an old buddy of Lionel’s. 

She watched as Sacks took a packet from the man and opened it, looking through the bills. There had to be at least ten thousand dollars, Lois thought. It was clearly a bribe of some kind. She strained to listen to the conversation.

She heard the scraping of a foot on concrete and turned to look, only to get a fist in her face. Too dazed to struggle, she was hauled to her feet and dragged before the district attorney.

Sacks smirked at her. “Well, Lois Lane. I always knew you had balls, Lane.”

The man ordered her hands to be tied behind her. Still dizzy from the punch to her head, she couldn’t fight as she was taken up to the second storey of the warehouse. Sacks looked at her, his hand on her jaw, his thumb stroking her cheek. Lois didn’t know if it was from being hit or just disgust, but she felt sick at his touch.

“It’s a pity you had to get so nosy, Lane. You’re a damn fine looking woman.” He shrugged and looked at his henchman. “Oh well.”

She was tied to a beam, forced to watch as the henchman poured a bottle of some kind of chemical on the floor, then another chemical in another spot. Lois couldn’t hear what Sacks was saying about the two chemicals but gathered when they mixed it would be rather explosive. 

The men walked away. Lois looked at the spilled chemicals and began struggling to free herself. To no avail. She gazed helplessly at the two pools of liquid as they slowly moved toward a drain in the floor, where they would mix and no doubt cause an explosion, and closed her eyes against the inevitable.

The sound was loud but instead of feeling the searing of her flesh, Lois barely felt the heat. Instead, she felt like she was floating in the air and strong arms surrounded her. The arms felt strangely familiar.

“Easy miss. I’ve got you.”

She opened her eyes and looked into intense blue eyes and a handsome face. She looked down and realised they were above the burning warehouse.

“You’ve got me?” she asked. “Who’s got you?”

He grinned at her before taking her a safe distance from the building and landing gently on the ground. 

“You’ll be all right now, miss,” he said. 

“Wait!” she said as he rose once more into the air. “How do I …”

He didn’t answer, flying off before she could take one step forward. She heard the sound of sirens and ran toward them, coming to a sudden stop. Sacks and his henchmen were tied up. Although tied up was not exactly the word. Someone had bent a steel post and wrapped it around them so they were tightly secured. All three men looked extremely uncomfortable. 

Next morning Lois was called into her editor’s office. Perry White was a good boss, although he tended to lose his temper more often than not. 

She hoped he would be in a good mood. It would help, she thought, that she had managed to nab a fourteen-point headline. 

It had been a hard few years. Lois had returned from Vietnam after three months in the war-torn country. She’d sent back stories trying to expose the truth behind the war, only for her immediate superior to change them to make it look like the men were heroes. She’d learnt the hard way there was nothing heroic in what they were doing.

At least, most of them. She’d found her own personal hero in Clark Kent. She still thought about him even though she hadn’t seen him in five years. He was the one man she had never been able to forget.

She’d tried dating other men, but they’d all paled in comparison to the young man she’d fallen for in the midst of so much pain and suffering. When her colleagues, or the men she went out with asked her about her experience in Vietnam, she would find herself choking up. 

Clark had written her dozens of letters, but a few months ago he had suddenly stopped writing. He’d left Vietnam after his tour, going back to the farm in Smallville for a year before deciding to travel. She had been a little upset that he’d chosen to do that instead of coming to her in Metropolis but figured he needed time to come to terms with everything that had happened in Vietnam.

He’d begun working as a freelance journalist, submitting stories to newspapers all over the world. Lois had kept every clipping he’d sent her, pasting them in a scrapbook, hoping one day she would see him again and be able to show him. Even those had stopped a few months ago.

Lois had found she had to work harder than ever to compete against her colleagues. Most of them still thought because she was a woman she wasn’t capable of bringing in the hard news stories. If she did, it was because she’d flashed her tits or batted her eyelashes at them. She still remembered something Clark had said to her. That she shouldn’t need to use her feminine wiles to get the story. 

She had proven to her boss, and to the journalism world in general, that she could bring in the hard stories by hard work. She’d earned her reputation as a good journalist by being tough. There were times when that attitude had led to her being called a bitch, but she didn’t care. It was a mask she wore to protect herself; protect her heart. It wasn’t quite broken after leaving Clark behind, but it was bruised by his recent silence.

As she headed up the stairs to her boss’ office, she ran into her cousin. Chloe had joined the Daily Planet as a reporter around the same time Lois had returned from Vietnam.

She had written so many letters to her cousin telling her about what had happened with Clark and then torn them up, afraid Chloe would take umbrage. When they’d finally met up in Metropolis, a few days before her blonde cousin started working at the Daily Planet, she had confessed all.

“I knew all about it,” Chloe told her with a smile. “Clark confessed everything.”

“You’re not mad?” Lois asked.

Her cousin’s face clouded over a little. “I have to admit I was a little upset, at first, but I was the one who broke up with him. I couldn’t expect him to become a monk.” She shrugged. “You were in the middle of a war zone. Things happen.”

“Not like this,” she said. “I didn’t go there expecting to …”

“Fall in love?” Chloe asked. “I can see it in your face. You love him.”

“Is love really the word?” she returned. “I just … I can’t stop thinking about him.”

“Lois, I will tell you what I told him. I’m happy you found each other. Clark deserved to find someone who believed in him and you deserved to find a guy who would take care of you but not smother you.”

To her surprise, a year ago, Chloe had started dating someone very familiar. She had heard Oliver Queen had returned from Vietnam a year after they’d met. Instead of the spoiled rich playboy he had apparently been before going to Vietnam, he was quieter, more taciturn. So it was a shock when her cousin had taken her to dinner to introduce her new beau.

Her cousin had obviously told her boyfriend about the intervening years. Oliver greeted her with a serious sort of smile, but there was none of the hostility she’d encountered on the base. Chloe must have set him straight about a few things there too. She had been a little concerned about the relationship between her cousin and the Queen heir, but the moment she caught the looks between them she knew she needn’t worry. Oliver clearly loved Chloe and it was mutual.

She smiled at her cousin as they met on the stairs. Chloe’s return smile was mischievous.

“I just came from a meeting with Perry,” she said.

“How is he? Is he in a good mood?”

“Oh, you’ll find out,” the blonde replied. Again with that mischievous look. 

Confused, Lois took the stairs two at a time and knocked on Perry’s office door. 

“Entre-vous,” Perry called out. He had been taking French lessons, hoping to surprise his wife with a trip to Paris for their anniversary. 

Lois opened the door, surprised to see someone sitting in the chair opposite Perry. She frowned at the dark head. Inexplicably, her heart began to pound. 

Prompted by some instinct of his own, the man rose and turned to look at her. He was wearing black glasses which hid part of his handsome face but she still knew that face anywhere. 

“Smallville?”

He smiled gently. “Hello Lois.”

She didn’t care how it looked to her boss. She ran to Clark and threw her arms around him. He kissed her. It wasn’t a passionate kiss but she still felt every emotion. All the years they’d missed out on. 

“Well, I can see no introductions are necessary,” Perry said as they separated. 

“Uh, we met in Vietnam,” Lois told her editor.

The older man waved his hand. His expression suggested he knew it all anyway. “Clark will be joining the Daily Planet as of Monday.”

She looked at Clark. “Really?” she said, delight in her voice.

He nodded. “Really.”

She hugged him. He wrapped his arms around her in an embrace that felt very familiar. As if she’d felt it very recently. 

“Lane, take the rest of the day off so you can get caught up with Kent here. But I expect you to be back on deck tomorrow, got it?”

“Sure, chief.” She grinned at Clark. “Let’s get out of here.”

As they left the office, Clark suddenly stopped and cocked his head.

“Uh, there’s something I need to do. Can I meet you at your apartment?”

She frowned at him. “What is it?” she asked. Something more important than her?

“Just … uh …” He awkwardly pushed his glasses up his nose, then mumbled something about drycleaning. 

Confused, Lois watched him walk away. She hadn’t even given him her address. How was he supposed to even …

She returned home and began looking through her recipe books, hoping to find something she could make for dinner. She hoped Clark was hungry. 

She switched on the television and was stunned to discover there were several reports of Superman. When she’d mentioned the rescue in her story the day before, Perry had asked her the name of her rescuer. All she had been able to remember of him as he flew away was the ‘S’ on his uniform, so she’d called him Superman. Well, he’d been a man with what she figured were supernatural powers, so it fit. 

Reporters were clearly clamouring for the exclusive on Superman, trying to find out who he was and where he’d come from, but he remained elusive.

She stood on the terrace of her apartment, lighting a cigarette. She kept trying to quit, knowing Clark hadn’t liked it, but just hadn’t managed it.

“You really shouldn’t smoke, Miss Lane.”

She looked up, stunned to see Superman hovering in front of her. 

“I know. I … I’ve been trying to quit. I … how did you know my name?”

He smiled but didn’t reply. 

“Thank you,” she said. “For saving my life yesterday.”

“You’re welcome.”

He cocked his head, as if listening for something. Lois frowned. The gesture was so familiar. She found herself thinking about a certain farmboy-turned-marine and now reporter. 

Superman turned as if to go. Lois let her instincts take over.

“What’s your hurry, Smallville?”

He looked at her, his eyes widening. “Smallville?”

“I know it’s you, Clark. It took me a little while, and the eyes sort of fooled me, but I knew I’d felt those muscular arms before. Why didn’t you tell me?”

He stepped onto her terrace, looking a little uncertain. 

“Clark, I will never tell anyone your secret. That I promise. Just please, don’t lie to me.”

He caught her in his arms. “Lois, you don’t know how many times I wanted to tell you, but this was something I couldn’t say in a letter.”

“I know. And I’d like to hear everything, but not now. I’m just glad you’re here.” She gazed into his eyes, disconcerted a little by the blue. “I never stopped thinking about you. After I left ‘Nam. When I came back, all I could think about was the things we talked about back there. About making a difference.”

“You are, Lois. You changed my life.”

“And you changed mine. Clark, Smallville …” She hesitated.

“I like when you call me Smallville,” he said with a smile. 

“I’m in love with you,” she said. “I think I knew before I left but I …”

“I know. I love you too.”

She studied him, feeling a little disconcerted by the uniform. In it, he appeared larger than life. Bigger than she remembered. Five years apart could change a person’s perception, but she’d wondered if perhaps she had been exaggerating the image she had of him in her mind.

She wondered if they could really be the same people they had been in Vietnam. Seeing the death and destruction up close had changed everything for her. She’d returned, sadder, wiser. Wondering if the feelings she’d had for him then had been a result of all she had seen. Yet, as she’d told him, she’d never been able to forget him.

Of course, then, he hadn’t been Superman. 

“Can we really do this?” she asked. 

“We can do anything, Lois. As long as we’re together.”

With a smile, she took his hand and led him inside. 

THE END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's an unusual sort of reveal but after everything Lois saw in Vietnam, you know she would have been analysing it over and over. All it took was a couple of clues for her to put two and two together.
> 
> I sort of left it up in the air a bit but as I said, this story was less about their relationship and more about the plot. I leave it up to you to decide if they really can work things out. I'll also leave you to draw your own conclusions about Clark's months of silence. 
> 
> Anyway, while this story didn't turn out to be an epic, I'm happy with how it turned out. You know what they say: 'always leave 'em wanting more'.

**Author's Note:**

> I cannot believe I am doing this. I've been wanting to do this one for ages and finally got around to it. This is inspired by an episode of Quantum Leap and various events will be similar. I initially considered making it one without powers but decided against it. I will do my best to reflect the culture of the time but my research is kind of limited. Yes, there are mentions of smoking, which is entirely appropriate to the time period even though I hate it myself.


End file.
